Vita Nova
by RavenxXxBlackwater
Summary: How is one to react when they are ripped from their old life, only to be thrust into another that's completely different from everything they've ever known? Willow Henderson finds herself in a strange new world filled with creatures like elves, dwarves and even wizards. She gains a new home and good friends, but will that be all Middle Earth has to offer? Eventual LegolasOC
1. Nightmares

**Chapter I**

**Nightmares**

_Willow sighed and adjusted her thick rimmed glasses once more when they started to slip down her sweaty nose and wiped at her forehead. The lenses of her ridiculously heavy eyewear were a little foggy along the lower half, but that couldn't be helped when her cheeks gave off heat like a furnace. It made the paper in front of her harder to read than Ancient Sumerian and she had to angle her head in just the right way so that she could see passed the fog long enough to read the next multiple choice question._

_Her pen deftly moved over to scratch a blue circle around the c) option before pushing the booklet up a little higher on the desk and continuing on. Her neck was starting to ache and she rubbed at it before resting her chin on a her fist. She was hot as hell. Though she was sure that the old hag that was her professor had circulatory issues, Willow was more convinced that Dr. Wilkes purposely bumped up the heat to make her and her fellow students as uncomfortable as possible; more than they already were thanks to exams._

_Crotchety old cow…_

_As if some sort of deity heard her privately slandering an elder, the heat suddenly intensified and Willow's breathing began to grow heavy, sucking in the heavy humid air in deep gulps. She felt like she was trapped in a sauna cranked to _holy shit_ Celsius and her pulse began to quicken, but whether it was from her anxiety or the heat, she wasn't completely sure._

_This was different than anything she'd felt before though. It felt wrong, like something more than just a cranked thermostat and a crabby professor. Like it was happening, but it wasn't_

_Looking around, Willow noticed no one else seemed to be as effected by the heat as she was. No one was sweating—except for Leroy, but he was the one with exam anxiety—and several were still wearing their winter jackets. One girl was even wearing her gloves still._

_Even knowing she'd almost instantly get a harshly whispered '_shhh!' _from Wilkes, Willow couldn't help but narrow her confused gaze at her classmates and mutter, "what the hell?"_

_Shaking her head, she decided to return to her exam. She was probably just nervous because it was the last one. She could ignore it for a little while longer until she was finished. Then she'd be free and these last two hours would be just a distant memory._

_But it wasn't long until the pressure her heavily beating heart created against her insides began to make her chest hurt and she cleared her throat, which then turned into a cough. By now it felt like her skin was on fire and that her insides were being cooked in a microwave, but she did her best to force in a few deep breaths despite the nausea she was beginning to experience. Instantly her lungs were filled with what tasted like bitter ashes, burning down her throat and choking her. She coughed again and gasped for the fresh air she knew was around her but all she got was more invisible smoke._

_Dropping her pen to the table, Willow's hands lifted to clamp over her ears when out of nowhere a horn blasted, but it did little good. It was almost like the sound was inside her head, not around her, because when she tried to find the source of the noise there was nothing in the classroom that could have possibly been making it. Then without warning pain sprouted through her from head to toe like she'd suddenly been struck by lightning and crushed all at the same time. It was sharp, unrelenting and struck right to her very core._

_Willow opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out that she knew of. The horn was still blaring in her mind, making her deaf to anything else. She desperately looked around to see if anyone was noticing her turmoil—if they heard the horn, felt like the planet's weight was flattening them into pancake like she did—but her classmates and professor seemed to be completely oblivious, as if her screaming and writhing in the middle of the room wasn't even happening._

_Like she wasn't even there._

_After what seemed like forever the horn finally stopped, but was almost immediately replaced by what sounded like metal twisting and it was loud enough to set her teeth on edge. Glass shattered, but when she looked behind her she found the classroom windows perfectly intact. She could feel the shards prickling into her skin and yet when she looked at her arms, they were bare._

_All too soon darkness began to invade her vision. In a panic, Willow stood, tossing her chair back without a care and made a beeline for the door. She had no idea whether or not escaping the room would help her, but she felt a sudden urge to run and she listened without a moment's hesitation._

_Not a single classmate looked up from their exam. Professor Wilkes still sat at her desk at the head of the room tapping away at her computer, stealing occasional glances over the monitor at her students. The clock on the wall behind the old woman still ticked away the seconds as if nothing were amiss. The room was pristine, ready for a full month break from young adults stomping across it's floors._

_Yet to Willow it sounded like a bomb had just gone off and she could think of nothing else but getting out of that damned room._

_It was the worst nightmare she'd had in years and Willow wanted to just wake up from it. Now. Seriously, if this didn't stop soon, she swore her ears were going to start bleeding. She couldn't breathe, could hardly see anymore, her knees were starting to buckle and she cursed, not for the first time, how exhaustibly large the college classroom was as she stumbled across it. So she pushed on and ran with whatever strength and speed she had at her disposal towards the door._

_Willow didn't make it very far until the once creeping black began to sweep in like ghostly fingers, converging steadily towards the centre. Suddenly exhausted, she slowed and almost collided with the doorjamb before her quivering legs gave out. She collapsed, sliding along the wall as she tried and failed to hold herself up, one weak hand reaching for the handle that she hoped would lead her to safety, or at least help. But her efforts failed when her arm went slack and it collapsed at her side, numb, and she collapsed to the floor._

* * *

Willow gasped, her back lurching up in an arch as she struggled to find fresh air as she woke from her nightmare. Almost immediately she choked and coughed harshly, eyes squeezing shut as a bright light made them burn the second they flew open. Her throat felt raw and dry like she'd just inhaled a whole pack of cigarettes and she could feel her hands shaking as she reached up to sooth the aching area.

Jesus christ, she felt like shit. It was one thing to wake up from a horrible nightmare like that, but to wake up feeling like she'd just been knocked out in a burning building was another. She'd had a lot of stress filled dreams about her final week of exams before, but _damn_, none of them had ever been that bad. Besides, she'd taken her last exam just yesterday, her anxiety should have been long gone.

And she sure as hell didn't remember the room feeling like it was on fire like that.

She groaned as her head throbbed painfully. Finally bringing herself to sit up, Willow swallowed at the urge to vomit and forced in a few slow deep breaths as she leaned back on her hands. They clenched and froze when she felt an odd prickling under her sweaty palms. It was soft and delicate; thin but smooth and kind of waxy. Whatever she was touching wasn't her duvet. Her comforter was soft and fluffy and a bit lumpy after countless washings. What she was touching felt nothing like fabric either, more like a plant. It kinda felt like… grass?

Slowly, Willow peeled open her eyes and the light felt like they were getting seared out of their sockets by the light. She squinted, but that didn't stop the salty water of her tears from dripping out from under glasses and off her chin. She wondered briefly why she'd fallen asleep with them on, but was thankful they hadn't broken while she appeared to be sleeping off what felt like a hangover. With a groan Willow sat up fully and slumped forward rubbing her blurry eyes and was surprised to feel something hard beneath her, something that definitely wasn't her rickety old bed.

Huh.

Grass plus what she could only assume to be earth. Was she outside?

Eyes now free of obstruction, Willow looked down to hopefully debunk her suspicions, but her mouth quickly fell open in shock. Thick, lush, green grass met her eyes. It taunted her, peeking out through the hole made by her criss-crossed legs and she reached out in front of her to test if it was real. She was met with the same waxy feeling as before as she carded her fingers through the blades in awe. Looking up, she might as well have detached her entire jaw it hung so low.

All around her was more grass, just as bright and green, waving merrily in a breeze that passed by. And there were trees too. Some were tall and skinny and others a little fatter, but all of them had healthy new leaves rustling in the wind and created the clearing she sat at the centre of. There were fallen branches, some flowers and tall weeds at the trees' bases and the more she looked the more she realized that she couldn't see very far into the thick foliage. There were just trees, bushes and more trees. Oh, and grass. Wherever she was, it was clearly not her bedroom or anywhere in Manitoba for that matter.

Last she checked it had been winter. Where was the snow? The skeleton branches? The ice?

Where were the roads and buildings for that matter? And why the hell was she waking up outside?

The longer she looked, the more confused Willow became and she couldn't help but curse her luck under her breath. Twisting her body to look behind her she just saw more trees. And a squirrel, but the moment she caught sight of the little creature it scurried up the trunk it was perched on, disappearing into the leaves.

How the hell was it spring when it was supposed to be winter? It had been snowing just yesterday. Thick snow! Like the kind that kept you indoors for hours with a cup of hot chocolate and made you hope school would be cancelled the next morning. It definitely couldn't have all melted and went into mid-spring _that_ fast. Willow wasn't a meteorologist, but she wasn't stupid enough to think that was possible even with global warming. Not in _Canada_.

Besides, she'd gone to bed in her apartment last night. Regardless of what season it was, it still didn't explain how she was waking up in the middle of buttfuck nowhe-

Oh.

Wait.

She never did make it home. The last thing she remembered was hailing a cab just outside campus. The streets were hell; icy and covered in a thick layer of fresh snow and she hadn't wanted to walk to her apartment in the over thirty below temperatures and howling winds. But then, how did she end up here? She didn't remember falling asleep and she sure as hell wouldn't have been asleep long enough for the cabby to take her so far south that it was fucking spring. He could have drugged her, but aside from dusting the backseat with some kind of powdered tranquilizer, Willow doubted it. He could have used gas in the vents perhaps, but that would have only knocked him out too.

The last thing she remembered… god, it was all a bit of a blur. The cabby had pulled away from the curb and back to the main road and then… then nothing. Just darkness.

It was all black just like the end of her nightmare. It was frustrating to have a stupid fat head that was blank and useless and Willow wanted nothing more than to scream herself hoarse in frustration. What the hell happened during the what was supposed to be a ten minute drive to her apartment? Still, the bigger question had to be where was she now and how she was going to be able to get help?

Well, she couldn't just sit there forever waiting for the answer grow on a tree. It was warm so she opted to peel off the black jacket and the purple hoody she wore underneath. Willow sighed in relief when another breeze filtered through the trees and cooled her bare arms and sweaty neck, ignoring how her loose red curls tickled her shoulders. When she finally stood up and bundled the materials into a ball to stuff them in her backpack she turned to grab it, but there was nothing there.

She hadn't seen it in her initial shocked perusal of the area either, she realized, and upon another glance there was still nothing. If she actually had been drugged then the cabby could have stolen it and while there wasn't anything of much use inside it, the fact that it was gone still pissed Willow off. Now she had no ID, no money and no goddamned phone, regardless of whether or not she even got service here. This was just fucking peachy.

Since the bag was lost, she decided to leave the hoody on for easier traveling, but left the zipper open and rolled up the sleeves to keep cool then tied her coat's arms around her waist. Her winter boots made her feet feel like they were on fire, but she had no choice but to leave them on and she frowned down at that clunky things as she wiggled her out of sight sweaty toes with a sigh. She then randomly chose a direction and started out on her trek into the woods in the direction hoped was headed towards civilization rather than away from it. She'd always heard that when lost you should just stay put and someone would eventually find you, but Willow was pretty damn sure that advice didn't suit her current situation.

No one, literally _no one,_ would be looking for her. She could have easily been passed out here for days and she was sure no one would have batted an eye besides her landlord and _maybe_ one other person. Her roommate was hardly ever home—and was completely useless when it came to bills or anything that required a sense of responsibility—and she barely kept in contact with anyone else.

She had no real close friends, being rather comfortable hanging out by herself, and Granny was long gone. There was Kory, a sort of friend that liked to hang around Willow sometimes, but Willow hadn't heard from her much recently either and she figured that girl was off on another bender or something.

So really, it was up to her to get herself out of this mess or else she'd likely die of starvation. Besides, she was bound to find someone eventually, right? How big of a forest could this be?

_How many are even left in the world now anyway? _she grunted mentally. _I'm bound to find the other side soon enough._

"Right," Willow scoffed, this time aloud, as she avoided a branch that was at perfect eye-poking level. Her voice was rough and ragged, probably from being drugged, if she had to guess. She coughed once to attempt to clear it and spit out the phlegmy mucus that came up with it with a grimace. "Just thinking that jinxes it. Now I'll probably die out here, mauled by a bear or something…"

A sudden rustling in the bushes made Willow pause instantly and she stared into the trees just off to her right, the air turning to ice in her lungs. She hadn't thought to really consider the dangers of trudging around a forest alone and with no means of protection before making her decision to stumble through the trees, but now that the thought had occurred every paranoid death scenario that she could possibly think of shot across her frazzled mind.

Especially when the rustling didn't stop and she couldn't chalk it up to an overactive imagination.

_What if it's a bear? Or, oh sweet baby Jesus, a wolf?! _She wouldn't even get a chance to starve if something ate her before even an hour passed!

Panic welled in her chest, forming a hard lump in her throat. She couldn't help the horrible scenarios from invading her mind, featuring lots of blood and mortifying screams of agony. Every gory horror movie and _Animal Planet_ documentary came to the forefront of her mind then, mixing together in a paralyzing waking nightmare as her overactive imagination twisted and morphed the clips into something that made her so physically sick that she wanted to bend over and heave her guts out.

But she didn't dare move. She didn't even want to breathe.

Oh, god, she was going to die and she didn't even have a chance to get a real job before the end. She was twenty-four and the only meaning to her tiny little existence would be a college degree she hadn't even received yet.

The bushes rustled again and Willow wanted so badly to tuck tail and run, go hide under a rock somewhere and lick her wounded pride, but her body was locked up and stuck in place. Her feet were glued to the ground and her heart was beating so hard she swore it was about to burst out of her chest. She even wondered for a moment if she was going to pass out. Holding her breath for as long as she was was not helping her one bit, but for the life of her she couldn't force her lungs to work.

The rustling came closer and Willow's hands trembled with anxiety, fearing the worst.

_It's probably a big ass bear. Sharp teeth and claws and fucking tiny, beady black eyes. Soulless, bloodthirsty eyes—_

Her shriek echoed through the forest around her when rustling finally resulted in something small and grey popping out of the bush right next to her. Notably _not _a bear. The shrill sound scared what ended up being a poor little jack rabbit back off into the foliage, but Willow finally allowed herself to breathe. Heart still hammering like a drum solo, her tense posture immediately deflated with relief and she placed a sweaty hand to her forehead, laughing piteously to herself. Her legs were still trembling with leftover adrenaline too so she shakily reached out grasp a tree so she could keep herself from falling over.

It was just a bunny. Fucking Peter Cottontail. And she'd been worried it was going to eat her.

"Good god, I need to find people," she groaned, running a clammy hand over her face. She then smacked her cheek a little harder than what was probably necessary and shook her head to focus on the task at hand. "I've only been out here for a few minutes and I'm already talking to myself and getting worked up over the goddamn easter bunny. Alright, you can do this, Willa. Just chill the fuck out and walk."

Taking one last steadying breath, Willow steeled her nerves and pushed off from the tree, resuming her course into the shadowy depths of the forest. Although her heart rate had slowed to a safer tempo, it still thrummed with a bit of lingering adrenaline as she wandered into the unknown. Finding a hair tie in one of her sweater's pockets she used it to pull her hair into a sloppy bun at the back of her head and sighed when her sweaty neck was cooled by another gentle breeze.

Okay, she could do this. How hard could it be, right? She watched _Survivorman_, she could get by for a few days, surely. She wasn't an expert on what she could and couldn't eat but she at least knew a few tricks she could try for making a fire if she needed to boil water or use string from her coat or sweater to make a snare. And there were plenty of trees. If she didn't reach help by nightfall she could always sleep in one if the fire didn't pan out.

"_QelIS HIboQ__…" _With that one last muttered prayer to herself, Willow pushed on.

* * *

Several hours and three more jump scares later found Willow thoroughly irritated, hungry and tired. She still hadn't reached the edge of whatever forest she was in and she was beginning to think she'd just been going in circles all day. There didn't seem to be an end in sight. It's not that anything felt or looked familiar, but she thought she'd at least have seen a break in the tree line by now.

But no, there were just more bushes and trees. Now the goddamned sun was setting and Willow still hadn't found any water. She couldn't see through the thick canopy of leaves above her head, but the already dark forest seemed to be getting darker. It got to the point were she needed to squint in order to see where she was going. She could only assume it was getting close to nighttime and she still had no shelter or food or water. She was a terrible survivalist.

It was starting to get cold too. Not enough to make her put her heavy wool coat back on, but enough to make her fingers a little numb. She'd rolled down her sleeves and zipped up her hoodie long ago and was content. Aside from the aching hunger, of course.

She'd taken a few rests throughout the day when her feet started to get sore from her stiff boots, but never longer than what she guessed was half an hour. She'd seen a few bushes with some berries on them a while ago, but had stopped herself from eating them regardless of her belly screaming at her for nourishment. She had no idea if they were poisonous or not and didn't want to take the chance. _Survivorman's_ teachings could only go so far and she wasn't a Botanist. She had no desire to throw up or shit her one pair of pants, thank you very much. That would only dehydrate her further and make it so she couldn't travel anymore.

And she had to keep moving.

With a frown, she'd left the berries behind even while her stomach gurgled in protest. It just wasn't worth the risk. By now her legs ached to the point of almost giving out on her, but she'd pushed on in hopes of finding _anything_ besides trees. As darkness fell she was still up shit creek without a paddle. Hell, she didn't even have the canoe and the creek was bone dry.

Willow hated the idea of staying out in a strange forest overnight because that's when the scary beasties tended to come out and play, but she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. She'd prefer to find a tree to sleep in and resume her search tomorrow, but she wasn't sure her legs' small amount of remaining strength could get her up to one of the higher sturdier branches.

Looking around her as the light faded to leave only outlines of trees, Willow made her decision. Staying on the ground seemed an even worse idea than forcing herself up a tree and with a determined nod she had grasped the lowest branch of the closest tree.

As it turns out, it was a little more difficult and painful to climb a tree in the dark than she anticipated. She slipped constantly, her palms got all scraped up and she knocked her head on the branches above her several times before she managed to finally reach a thick branch roughly half way up the tree. Once she got there she was so exhausted she just about fell back to the bottom again, but somehow managed to hang on.

Willow straddled and slumped over her chosen branch tiredly as she removed her jacket from around her waist and bundled it. Placing it on the branch before her she practically face planted into it after removing her glasses and tucking them in the back of her pants for—somewhat—safe keeping. Joining her arms through her sleeves beneath the branch, Willow tucked in for what she knew was going to be a restless slumber.

Attempting to sleep was absolutely awful and when morning came again she was pretty sure she'd gotten no sleep at all. Every time she was about to doze off her body would start to roll and she'd startle herself awake trying to right herself before she fell from the tree to the darkness below. Every rustle and hoot of an owl would make her jump even though she knew she was safe, her nerves fried from the day of helpless wandering. She almost broke her glasses a few times when she'd sat up in fear. Her empty stomach was sore and made her insides clench and her tired muscles ached like nobody's business. All in all, Willow felt like she was in hell, just without the torture and hellfire.

Well, an argument could be made for the former. She was pretty sure that starvation was a form of torture.

By the time light started to shine through the leaves again a headache had formed in her temples, she was exhausted and felt incredibly weak. However, she knew she couldn't stay up in the tree for the rest of her—probably—short life and had eventually talked herself into climbing down. It had been slow going and she reopened some wounds from the night before, but she made it to the bottom relatively unharmed.

_Maybe_, she thought with waning optimism, _maybe today I'll find a person or even something to eat or drink_. She needed something, _anything_, to make this horrible twisting in her gut go away or at least some company to keep her sane. Willow didn't care if she had raw fish given to her by a hobo at this point; just as long as she had something to eat.

Thumping to the ground, Willow wobbled on weak legs before trudging onward. While her pace yesterday had been cautious and steady, today was the opposite. She stumbled over twigs and nearly lost her glasses when a branch whipped her in the face after it slipped from her hand. Now her cheek stung too and it only added to her list of things to silently complain about.

Hours or minutes of this passed. Willow was too dazed to try to figure out how long it might have actually been and her already waning optimism was quickly spiralling into depression. The scenery hadn't changed for what felt like miles and she was beginning to think that she was stuck in limbo and wandering around an endless forest in her mind. She scoffed at the idea, but conceded that the feeling of helplessness was still the same.

But then she suddenly stopped in her shambling and stared ahead of her. That hope she'd thought was long gone welled back up inside her chest. A surprised hysterical laugh, unrecognizable as her own with how raspy and broken it sounded, bubbled from her lips and Willow ignored how the action made her already sore stomach clench in protest.

At first she thought it was just her imagination, but when she looked closer she almost laughed out loud again at what she saw. There, just a few dozen feet ahead of her, she could see the trees beginning to thin and a little bit farther than that was the bright light of either another clearing or, she hoped, a field.

Willow let the hope starting to bring strength to her tired body flourish and, forgetting her fatigue for the time being, she broke into an awkward run towards the pinprick light. She almost tripped over a root or two in her haste, but she managed to catch herself in time and pushed on. She could almost taste the cooler fresh air as she came closer and when she finally reached the edge of the tree line she burst forth with her arms thrown up in victory.

"Hallelujah!" Willow cried in joy. Immediately she collapsed to spread her arms out on the ground of the field she found herself in as if giving it a bearhug. As much as she liked trees and forests, she was happy to finally escape a place that had no food or water and not even a damn hiking trail to help guide her way.

She choked out a sob of laughter as she lay there, her nose being tickled by the blades of grass brushing against it with her breath, and sighed contently. She wanted to cry she was so relieved, but she blinked the tears away and instead grinned like a lunatic. She sifted her fingers through the yellowing blades of grass adoringly.

Sighing out another soft laugh she slowly pushed herself to sit up and lifted her head to look around her, excitement coursing through her veins.

But her smile slowly fell and she just stared, completely unimpressed at what she found instead.

No, she didn't see Ron Jeremy doing a strip tease on the Victoria Secret runway. That would have been preferable over what was actually there. At least there would have been another person around.

Once again there was nothing. No trail, no fences, no buildings, not even a damn cow. Willow took in the field that stretched on for miles, her good mood quickly evaporating. It was empty save for a boulder or a dead bush thrown in here and there just to make things interesting. The sky above was mostly covered by clouds, but at the moment none obstructed the big burning ball in the sky from shining brightly down on her in mocking. It appeared to be at its zenith and she was sure if she listened hard enough, she could hear it laughing at her.

Willow drew in a slow deep breath and try as she might, she couldn't help the scream of frustration from tearing out of her sore throat. She heard it crack and lose gusto, but she didn't care. She was too frustrated, angry and sad to care. It wasn't like there was anyone around to make fun of her for it anyway.

Clenching her hands, she tore several blades of grass from the earth and promptly threw them at the expanse of field in front of her in a fit of rage. The grass flew for maybe a foot before floating to the ground, disappearing amongst its still intact brethren. Tears once again came unbidden to her eyes and she didn't bother stopping them this time.

Willow sniffled and felt her shaking body sag as she squeezed her eyes shut, taking away the upsetting picture of all her hopes crashing down around her liked shattered pieces of glass. This was hardly better than the forest. Actually, it was worse. The grass out here appeared to be dead or dying while amongst the trees it had been lush and green despite the lack of appropriate sunshine. She could only assume there was little to no water anywhere near here either.

So, in short, she'd walked for two days only to end up with jack _fucking _squat.

Willow looked down and studied a fallen leave sullenly through the blurriness of her tears, pondering whether or not a human could live off leaves. Were they anything like spinach? Animals could eat leaves, so why not her? She took up the leaf to test it and immediately spit it back out. No, leaves were not a sustainable food source. Good god, that was nastykins.

While she'd been mulling over the unlikely nutritional value of foliage, Willow had failed to feel a presence coming up behind her, but instantly froze when there was the unmistakable sound of a growl at her back. Throughout her trek in Treeville she had been spooked by countless animals, but not one as of yet had growled at her like that—not even the fox. Fear shot down her spine and she tried to swallow the lump that formed in her throat, but it remained stuck.

Ever so slowly, Willow turned her head to look over her shoulder and her worst fears were confirmed when she met the eyes of a large grey wolf. Not wanting to startle the creature, she slowly turned to face the animal fully, eyes so wides she was surprised they didn't fall from her head. But there was no way in ever loving _hell _she was going to leave her back to it, no matter how terrifying looking it the eye was, and with that thought in mind Willow began to shuffle back on her rear. She hoped that if she made no sudden movements, maybe it would lose interest and go away.

But as with everything else that had been happening to her recently; she had no such luck.

The beast snarled, its lips pulling back to show off a set of horribly sharp teeth and it followed her at an equally slow pace. Willow whimpered softly, but flinched and fell silent when the sound only made the wolf let out a sudden bark followed by another menacing growl. Licking its black snout, it continued to inch closer.

_Oh god, this is how I'm going to die_, Willow thought despairingly, watching as the wolf crouched and made ready to pounce, its hackles rising. She couldn't help it. She shut her eyes in fear, praying that whatever was coming next wouldn't hurt as much if she couldn't see it, but its snarls only sounded more terrifying now.

It was then she fully began to realize that she was about to die in one of the worst, most painful ways she could possibly think of and her pathetically dull life began to flash before her closed eyes. Every regret she ever had for never doing more with her life twisted and writhed within her gut like a caged animal and every hope of the future she'd thought she'd have stabbed through her heart like a lightening bolt on steroids. She was going to die and she wasn't even twenty-five yet.

She'd never gotten to go skydiving like she'd always wanted to, or go on vacation to Ireland to see where her family came from. She'd wanted to try sushi, get a cat and a career and die old and grey watching _Star Trek_ reruns in the old folk's home. Suddenly none of that was possible and the feeling of loss nearly broke her more than the terror did.

All the things she'd wanted to do but never could because of lack of time, money and confidence would never happen now. Now, her greatest accomplishments would boil down to winning a piano competition when she was sixteen and getting a degree that took her almost nowhere.

Though scared beyond comprehension, Willow dared a peak and immediately felt her entire body go numb when she saw wolf had crouched lower, ears pinned flat to its head, eyes hungrily eyeing the tender meat of her neck. Willow silently pleaded with any deity that possibly existed to have mercy on her, unable to look away. She watched as the wolf leaned back to gather momentum for its pounce and forced her eyes shut again, not wanting to see those large sharp teeth bearing down on her. She felt ashamed she couldn't look death in the eye like a strong woman should, but she reasoned with herself that pride wouldn't matter when she was dead and digested into wolf shit.

Fuck her dignity. She never had much of it anyway.

But the mauling of teeth and claws never came. The wolf's growling suddenly cut short and instead she heard it whimper. Eyes still firmly closed, Willow narrowed a confused brow. That couldn't be right. It should be devouring her like a fat kid set loose at a buffet right now. She obviously wasn't a threat, so why was it whining?

Tentatively Willow peeled her eyes open, only to watch through squinted lids as the wolf tucked tail and ran back into the trees. It disappeared into the shadows and bushes like it had never been there at all, leaving Willow to blink at its back in confusion. Her furrowed brow deepened, but she didn't have to wait long to find out what had spooked her would be attacker.

There was a thumping approaching at an alarming rate from behind her that she hadn't realized was there before and more snarling, deeper and more menacing than anything the wolf had produced, but it was farther away. And by the sounds of it, it wasn't just one creature either. Almost too afraid to look, but also too morbidly curious not to, Willow turned around again and her jaw dropped so low she might as well have been using it as a shovel.

She could only think of three simple words in response to what she saw.

What. The. Fuck.

* * *

**Translations:**

_QeylIS HIboQ:_ Klingon; meaning 'god help me.'

Hey, Everyone! I'm baaaaack~ lol Now, before I start getting hate mail for posting a new story when I've been away for so long (_and_ haven't finished my previous LegolasOC), I just want to say... I hope it's worth it? I've been on a long hiatus, I know, but I've been somewhat productive during that time. This story as well as a few others have been in the works for the past couple years. I just wanted to make sure I had a decent storyline going before I posted without really looking it over after writing it like I used to.

(Cue full-bodied cringe)

That being said, I hope you enjoy this little snippet. There is plenty more to come as I have a lot of chapters for this fic already. There's just a few finishing touches that need to be made before they come out. Hopefully that will be soon since I'm leaving this on a minor cliffy. I also plan to spread out the postings so that I can actually keep up with writing, something I failed to do before and can hopefully avoid this time. I hope ya'll enjoy this first instalment though. Thanks for reading!

Kat


	2. Strange Encounters

**II**

**Strange Encounters**

What she found behind her had to be four of the scariest—and ugliest—looking beasts she'd ever seen; eight actually, if you wanted to count the pitch black skinned humanoid-ish things riding them. And when she said riding, she meant as in actually using the what appeared to be dog-lion hybrids with a serious crack addiction as fucking horses. The riders themselves were grotesque with their sharp teeth bared as they made an odd growling noise that was almost as terrifying as their steeds'. Several piercings on their faces glinted in the low sunlight and they completed their look with crude weapons; black swords, axes and one even had a bow with an arrow loaded and aimed directly at her.

Where was she, the middle ages? Willow stared openly, dumbfounded with shock as the riders shouted at her in a strange language, and couldn't help but finally mutter, "What the fu—OH MY GOD!"

Her outspoken thought was cut off swiftly with a yelp when the arrow the man had been aiming at her was abruptly released and shot straight for her. With a scream, Willow dove to the side as the men shouted agin in the language she couldn't understand and when the world stopped spinning she pushed herself from the ground with all the strength she could muster. Making a beeline for the relative safety of the trees like that genius of a wolf had, Willow didn't look back even as she heard them continue to give chase.

_I change my mind_, she deliberated frantically in her head as she neared the row of trees. _The trees are definitely safer. Fuck being out here in this field of death!_

Another arrow wizzed by her head just as what sounded like another shout and a horn sounded in the distance, but she didn't dare look back. Willow yelped as she leaped over a bush, almost tripping over it in the process, and ran like the hounds of hell were on her ass.

Which, in all likelihood, probably wasn't that far off from the truth. Those things could make Satan himself piss his pants and cry for his mamma.

The shouts turned to screeches behind her but Willow could just barely hear them over the sound of her blood rushing in her ears. For all she knew one was still right on her tail, but she prayed that the dog-lions were too large to get passed the thankfully small spaces between trees. She had hated it earlier, but now she couldn't be more grateful for the shelter and relative safety it provided.

Chancing a glance behind her, Willow almost breathed a sigh of relief when she found that they had not in fact followed her, but due to her mad sprint she could no longer see the tree line. She had no way of knowing if the riders were dismounting and preparing to follow on foot either. The idea made her shutter.

But in her moment of distraction Willow failed to notice that she was running straight for a large oak tree and the next thing she knew she was slamming full speed into its trunk. Bits of bark and shook loose leaves fell as she promptly bounced off it like a rubber ball and tumbled to the forest floor with her glasses askew. Pain exploded across the left side of her face and Willow moved a hand to touch the area out of instinct.

"Fuck!" She hissed both in pain and anger as she pulled her hand away. Her fingertips were stained with the blood from her cheek and she dropped her hand at her side with a sigh. Luckily her glasses hadn't been broken in the impact. They were crooked, but Willow made no move to adjust them.

Her head and body ached even more now, if that was even possible. As the adrenaline wore off and exhaustion took over once more, tired, hurt and out of breath, Willow just laid there knowing full well that if the beasts did enter the forest the scent of her blood would lead them straight to her. She wanted to move, to continue running for her life, but she was so tired and sore and she just couldn't find the motivation to get up and do it.

Maybe she was lazy. Maybe she just didn't care anymore. After all, it would be a faster way to die than starvation and that thought was oddly appealing. She even considered letting herself pass out so that she wouldn't feel them eating her, but a small noise above her made her slowly closing eyelids snap back open.

There was a rustling of leaves on the other side of where she lay and Willow, staring wide-eyed at the bush, froze and awaited the inevitable. But once again the attack didn't come. When the leaves moved again Willow held her breath, hoping it was just another bunny that had scared her until a pale hand appeared through the bush right above her head. Reacting on instinct she yelped and smacked it. The hand disappeared again with lightening speed.

Trembling, Willow blinked when nothing else happened for a few seconds and for a moment she thought she'd imagined it. Then there was hushed whispering, again in another language, but it wasn't the same one that the guys before had been shouting. This language sounded fluid and beautiful, like the trickle of gently running water in a creek. Compared to the harsh gurgling of the others, it was like music to her ears.

Willow let out another startled scream when an unknown person appeared in front of her sprawled body, coming around to her side instead of through the bush she laid in. Out of instinct she grabbed whatever was closest to her and when her hand grasped at a stick, she didn't hesitate to swing it at the newcomer with a strangled battlecry. A reflexive hand took hold of the stick faster than Willow could blink and she stared up in awe at the brunette man who was its owner.

Surprised grey-blue eyes met fearful mossy green as the two stared at each other along the length of the stick. If Willow hadn't been so amped up with adrenaline and fear she might have gawked at how handsome he was. He was tall and lean and wearing what appeared to be medieval style clothing and his hair was a beautiful shade of dark chocolate; long and straight save for a braid hanging from each temple. He had weapons strapped to his belt and over his shoulders, but they were ancient. Not a gun or any other piece of modern technology could be seen on him.

But the most shocking thing about this gorgeous man had to be his ears. They poked out proud and pale from behind his braids and, to Willow's utter shock, they were pointed.

She was so busy staring at his ears that she almost didn't notice him examining her just as closely. It wasn't until two more similarly dressed men came up on either side of him that she was finally shaken out of her stupor. Immediately she took note of their ears as well. One of the men looked like an exact copy of the one in front of her and the other looked similar, but was clearly not related to the other two. They were all as pale as could be, almost glowing in the dim forest light, and so damn good looking that she honestly thought she was looking at a _Men's Health_ billboard rather than three actual people.

The first man's eyes softened as his shock wore off first and he slowly released the end of the stick she'd meant to attack him with, both hands rising and splayed in a sign of peace. His dark brows furrowed slightly as he looked Willow over. She was still breathing heavily and held her stick up and ready to defend herself. Lowering himself to a crouch, the man eyed Willow's stick warily as it followed his movements.

Just because these guys were prettier than the ones riding the dog-lions, didn't mean that they wouldn't hurt her too. She'd watched_ Criminal Minds;_ she knew how some seemingly nice people could really be psychopaths underneath it all. The pretty ones always turned out to be either unavailable or crazy to boot.

She might not have looked very intimidating laying on her back and gasping like a fish out of water, but Willow couldn't care less at the moment. She thought she'd been ready to die just minutes ago, but her instinctive act to grab for the stick to defend herself proved that she really wasn't. She might not have been a mach for three tall, strong looking guys, but she decided right then and there that no matter what she wasn't going down without a fight.

_"__Man i eneth lîn?"_ Dude Number One said softly and Willow blinked at him owlishly. She could tell that he was asking her a question, but she couldn't for the life of her recognize the dialect. When he got no reaction from her, he exchanged a look with his friends. When they shrugged, he looked back at her.

Willow's arm was beginning to tire and the stick wavered to the side before she stubbornly brought it back, squinting in concentration. Dude Number One saw how much she seemed to be struggling and made a cautious gesture for her to lower her weapon. He spoke again and this time Willow was relieved to hear him use a language she actually recognized.

"Be calm, my lady, we will not harm you," he said. His deep voice was soft and soothing and lightly accented. Willow breathed a hesitant sigh of relief at his words and her stick lowered a little bit, but she still didn't put it down. She decided to ignore the weird archaic title he'd used and clenched her jaw, still watching him and his friends warily. She didn't reply.

"Please. We only wish to help. You are safe with us and you are injured," he implored gently.

Yeah, she was. The scrapes from her trip up the tree yesterday were scabbed over, but still tender, and her face felt like it had its own heartbeat. She didn't even want to know what her feet looked like, but she'd wager they were swollen and full of pussy blisters. Still, she supposed it could have been worse. A _lot _worse.

Though she was still cautious, these guys didn't seem half bad. Not as bad as those riders had been anyway. And the prospect of finally getting help was also too good to pass up. She in no way trusted them yet—they'd only just met—but Willow was too hungry and tired to put up much of a fuss over who helped her anymore. She supposed it was also a bonus that they were all so fun to look at too.

Willow decided it was her best option for the time being and after a moment, lowered her stick and a curt nod of acceptance. Dude Number One smiled kindly as he stood and offered her a hand up. When she was upright, his grip tightened momentarily when she swayed and Willow steadied herself with a deep breath. When she was still, he released her.

Even as tall as she was at 5'11", Willow was still at least three inches shorter than each of the men standing before her and she had to tip up her head a little to meet their eyes. All three of them watched her curiously as she did the same to them. They didn't miss how her eyes tended to pass over their ears and weapons several times.

"What is your name, my lady?" Dude Number One asked, presumably repeating what he'd said to her before only now she understood. Fiddling with the sleeves of her coat around her waist, Willow shuffled on her feet under the weight of all their stares.

"Um…" She winced at the roughness of her voice. She smiled apologetically when they all seemed to finch at the sound as well. Willow cleared her throat before continuing. Her voice was still hoarse, but it was better. "I-I'm Willow. Willow Henderson. Who are you?"

"I am Elladan, son of Elrond," Dude Number One replied, placing a hand to his chest as he gave her a small bow of his head. Willow raised her eyebrow at the odd action, but the man paid her confusion no mind. When he straightened again he gestured to the two men standing behind each of his shoulders. "This is my brother Elrohir and our friend Handion, son of Aelon."

Both men repeated the same gesture Elladan had and Willow managed to give an awkward smile in return, waving at them dumbly. "Hi…" The men returned her smile. "Uh, not to sound rude or anything, but what's up with all y'all's ears?"

Elladan chuckled like a parent would at a kid who'd just asked a stupid question and beside him his brother grinned broadly in amusement. Handion appeared unfazed by the question and simply blinked at her. She could only guess that the brothers were the only ones who could speak English because they gave her matching lopsided smiles.

"We are elves, Lady Willow," Elrohir told her simply, exchanging an amused look with his brother.

This time both of Willow's eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. "Elves?" she repeated, her tone flat. "So what, you guys are out here LARPing some D n' D or some shit like that?"

Great, so not only had she possibly been drugged, kidnapped, robbed and dumped in the middle of nowhere to starve to death or get chased down by lunatics, she now had to deal with uber geeks? It suddenly dawned on her why they were talking to her like it was the middle ages and Willow couldn't help but laugh a little, wondering why she hadn't thought of it when she first saw the archaic clothing and weaponry.

Don't get her wrong, she was a geek herself, but she limited herself to books, movies and the occasional video game. Acting out her fantasies never really appealed to her like it had to some of her friends. It just seemed so embarrassing. Just the thought of dressing up and running around with foam swords shouting things like 'I shall avenge thee!' made her involuntarily cringe.

She had to admit though, these guys must have been pretty hardcore. Eying their swords and knives Willow had to admit they were made pretty well. She couldn't spot any duct tape on the handles and their clothes didn't look like their moms had patched them together over the weekend. This was some high level LARPing, no doubt.

At her sarcastically spoken question Elladan and Elrohir replacing their amusement with confusion as they stared at her, making her shift uneasily. These guys had to be pretty good actors because their expressions seemed genuine enough. Especially Handion with his blank, clueless one. He still said nothing as he watched the exchange curiously from the back.

Willow supposed he had to be the squire elf who wasn't allowed to speak until spoken too or some other silly thing like that. But to his credit, he offered a polite smile to her when they briefly made eye contact. Despite her cynical thoughts Willow returned the gesture, hoping it didn't look to awkward.

"'Lar ping'? 'Deeandee'?" Elladan asked, the words coming out awkwardly on his tongue as he mulled them over. Wow, he really had to be in character 'cause he was just _nailing_ the oblivious look, she thought with reluctant admiration. He seemed genuinely confused as he looked to his brother for clarification, but his twin just shook his head unknowingly.

Elladan turned back to her. "I'm sorry, my lady, we are unfamiliar with these terms."

Good actors indeed. A little too good. Annoyingly good.

Rolling her eyes in frustration, Willow crossed her arms over her chest and ignored the stinging the contact made on her hands. Levelling the three 'elves' with an exasperated look, she sighed. "Look, I'm not in the mood to play games here, buddy. I'm grateful for your offer to help me and all that jazz, but I've had a shitty past few days," she snapped, having trouble reigning in her frustration. She'd waited for help long enough and, damnit, she was going to get it.

"I've been wandering around these woods for two _freaking_ days and I'm exhausted, hungry and thirsty beyond belief, not to mention I just almost got eaten by a wolf and then shot at by your friends. I am in _no_ mood for your geek shit. So I'd _really_ appreciate it if you dropped the act for a couple minutes and took me to a phone so I can just call the police and be on my merry _freaking_ way. _Dông ma_?"

Silence followed her short tirade and Willow watched as each of them looked at each other in confusion. Handion leaned in and whispered something she couldn't hear to the twins and Elrohir replied just as quietly, shaking his head. Handion's brows furrowed farther and he frowned as well, looking passed his companions to glance at her.

Willow, not appreciating being talked about like she wasn't even there, cleared her throat loudly to gain their attention. She just opened her mouth to snap something rude, maybe even threatening, when all three turned to face her again.

"I am… uncertain as to what you have just said, Lady Willow, as most of your words were foreign to us…" Elladan said slowly, sounding very diplomatic regardless of his supposed ignorance. Willow had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Didn't they realize that she wasn't part of their stupid game? She had a real fucking problem!

"However," he continued, "I did hear you mention that you have been stranded for several days. How did you come to be in these parts?"

Throwing up her hands in frustration, Willow heaved a deep sigh. "I don't know. One minute I'm on my way home after an exam and the next I'm waking up in a forest. I think I was drugged, but I don't know for sure. Seriously though, if none of you have a phone in your costumes do you at least have some water? Or something to eat? I've been walking for days and I'm so hungry my stomach hurts."

At the mention of her discomfort the twins' expressions immediately morphed from confusion to worry and Elladan immediately reached for his belt where a leather pouch sat that Willow hadn't noticed before. Once it was free, he handed it to her and she took it gratefully with a quite 'thank you'. Deciding to forget about germ exchange in favour of some much needed hydration, Willow popped the cork and drank the water inside greedily.

After she'd had her fill, Willow pulled the canteen from her lips with a watery slurp and gulped in a some air, breathless. Wiping her mouth, she sent Elladan a grateful look. "Thank you," she gasped again to the 'elf' and he merely nodded in welcome, watching her curiously as she took another sip. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him take note of her own ears and raised a mocking brow at him when he blatantly stared in horror.

Blushing at being caught, he looked away. "I apologize. I have never seen a woman with so much… jewelry before."

Right, she bet he hadn't. "Uh huh, no biggie," was her only reply as she glanced over his shoulder at the two others conversing quietly behind him. At least they weren't trying to whisper this time and she listened to the beautiful langue as it rolled off their tongues fluidly.

Willow felt another pang of hesitant appreciation. These guys had even learned a whole new language for their game. Now _that _was dedication.

When they were done speaking Handion nodded and immediately departed from the group, heading back the way she'd come after escaping the dog-lions. He was quick and surprisingly silent as he ran and Willow watched on in silent envy. Taking a few more sips of cool water, and trying to ignore how the twins watched her as she did so, Willow put the cork back in the top before handing it back to Elladan. She could have drank more, but she didn't want to make her stomach even more upset by chugging too fast.

"Where's he going?" she asked, nodding in the direction Handion had just run off to.

"To make certain the horses are rested enough for travel and to find the lembas in my pack for you," Elrohir replied before stepping to the side and waving his hand in invitation for her to follow. "Come, we must take you away from the forest and plains. It is not safe in these parts and especially not for a woman in your condition with no defences. We will take you to Rivendell and you will be well cared for there."

"Sounds good to me," Willow shrugged and stepped in line behind Elrohir while Elladan took up the rear. Together the trio began making their way back out of the trees.

She had no idea what lembas was, but it could have been steak tartar for all she cared. She was pretty damn sure that this Rivendell place wasn't on any map she'd ever heard of and immediately assumed it was their little camp headquarters. She rolled her eyes at the thought, but ultimately didn't care about that much either. As long as there was more food and a phone she would be as happy as a clam at the bottom of the sea.

The path they took was so narrow that they had to walk single file and for the first few minutes there was only silence. Except for the sound of her footsteps on the leaf and twig covered ground, that is. The twins, however, didn't make a sound and it made Willow a little self conscious. She didn't have _that_ heavy of a footfall, but walking with these guys made her sound like a bull in a china shop. She tried to step a little bit lighter, but her damn giant winter boots made that impossible. With a quiet huff, she gave up and allowed herself to noisily clump through the underbrush.

Even though they were way too in character for Willow's liking, these guys seemed okay to her so far. They took their game a little too seriously and it was frustrating beyond belief, but at least they were helping her out—and let's not forget how pretty they were to look at. Soon she'd have food, water, a phone—she hoped—and even a ride on horseback by the sounds of it. She'd always wanted to ride a horse, but living in the city didn't give her much opportunity to learn. It was ironic that she had to get kidnapped first in order to get her somewhere she could even do it. Small wonders.

"Forgive me, my lady," Elladan suddenly spoke up from behind her and Willow glanced over her shoulder at him. She watched as he examined the hood of her sweater, her coat tied around her waist and her heavy boots with furrowed brows, "But what sort of garb is this? I have never seen such a fashion before." His hand lifted to point at the lilac coloured hood and when he saw he had her full attention he blinked inquisitively at her black framed glasses.

Willow rolled her eyes and looked straight ahead again when she almost tripped over a tree root. She debated staying silent, not wanting to give into their little game, but couldn't help herself. "Duh. They're called street clothes," she drawled, tone dripping with sarcasm. She was going to punch someone if they didn't let up on this act of theirs soon. "All the cool kids are wearing them these days."

"…My lady?"

Willow sighed. "Nevermind." She waved her hand over her shoulder in dismissal. Fine. If these guys didn't want to give it up, she might as well try to be nice and play along a bit. They did just help her out, after all. The least she could do was indulge them. For now.

She tugged at her loose sweater then tapped the arm of her glasses. "This is a sweater and these are called glasses. They help me see clearly."

"If I may ask, what is wrong with your sight that your eyes cannot do it on their own? You do not appear old enough to have such ailments," he said and Willow couldn't stop the snort from passing her lips.

"I don't know, I was just born this way. I'm farsighted, so I need these to see things that are closer to me."

"Intriguing," Elladan hummed, sounding genuinely fascinated. It was so hard to believe these guys were actually faking it. She'd never admit it to anyone, but she was starting to get sucked in. It was the only reason she asked her next question.

"So who were those guys that shot at me?"

"Orcs," Elrohir replied, a hint of disgust lacing his tone. Willow caught his sneer of disgust as he spoke over his shoulder "They are very dangerous, Lady Willow, and even more so when accompanied by their trained wargs. They are vicious creatures."

Willow could only guess that the wargs were those nasty looking dog-lions that the black skinned guys—sorry _orcs_—had been riding. Yeah, she was familiar with how ferocious they were; the beasts were seriously nasty looking. She'd never heard of a warg before, but they looked like some crazy gene splicing gone wrong. She had to wonder what the hell kind of game were these guys playing if they were using genetic hybrids like that.

Shaking her head slightly to shove the thoughts away, Willow gave humourless chuckle. "Yeah, I could tell. I swear they were about to rip my head off."

"And they would have," came Elladan's somber reply, "had we not been tracking them when we heard you shout. What does halleluya mean?"

Once again Willow rolled her eyes, sighing softly in exasperation. Turning around so that she was facing Elladan and walking backwards, which given her lack of grace and physical state _probably_ wasn't the best idea, she replied, "I think it means praise the lord or some shit like that. Have you guys never heard a church choir before? Or Leonard Cohe—Woah!"

Her words were cut short when the back of her legs suddenly bumped into a bush and she toppled gracelessly backwards over it. They were out of the forest now, as was evident by the blue sky she could see above her, but instead of falling on the hard ground she was sprawled over something warm and squishy. And wet. Her lip curled as she moaned a little at the uncomfortable feeling.

But her disgust was quickly replaced by confusion when she took in Elladan's horrified expression. His hand was outstretched like he'd meant to catch her before her fall but had missed and now he just stared at her, eyes wide and hand frozen in the air. Taking a breath to blow her bangs away from her eyes, she stopped short and coughed at the smell that invaded her nostrils.

Her stomach flopped and rolled and it took everything in her to keep her recently drunk water where it was supposed to be. Whatever it was was putrid and smelled worse than a backed up toilet and rotten eggs. A startled sound came from Elrohir and she glanced up at the other twin, brows furrowing in confusion when she saw him staring at her much in the same way his brother was.

"What?" she asked uncertainly. Oh god, what was usually warm and squishy and smelled disgusting? Willow shuttered, not wanting to even contemplate it.

"Lady Willow," Elladan said slowly, his eyes darting between her and whatever she was laying on, "I do not think you should turn around."

"Why? What did I land on?" She asked again, her voice rushed. "Is it poop? It's poop, isn't it?"

Despite Elladan's warning, Willow sat up farther and twisted to look behind her before either one of the twins could protest. She expected to find a puddle of horse pee and probably even a pile of shit, but instead what she saw made her joints lock up in horror and her blood run cold. She gasped and another whiff of that horrible stench invaded her senses. Again her stomach lurched and this time she couldn't hold back as another wave of nausea assaulted her.

Tearing herself violently away from the body of a warg, a _dead_ warg, Willow promptly fell to her hands and knees, vomiting into the grass. Black spots temporarily danced across her vision with the force of the upheaval and she groaned not only from the pain in her suddenly pounding skull, but from pity as well.

All eight of the men and animals she'd seen earlier were spread out before her, as still as one would expect them to be in their condition.

They were all dead.

* * *

**Translations:**

**_Man i eneth lîn_** : Elvish, meaning 'what is your name?' (formal)


	3. AaahhHHH! Freak Out!

**III**

**_AaahhHHH! Freak Out_****!**

Unsurprisingly, the only thing that came spewing from her mouth was the now slightly yellowish water she'd accepted from Elladan just minutes ago. Her stomach roiled and clenched worse than it had earlier and she hastily covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve to stop the horrible stench from making her do it again. Stomach acid laced water and dead warg mixed together in a cocktail of foul gas that was so potent it put a garbage site to shame. Next time she caught a whiff she probably _would_ upchuck blood and guts.

Feeling a gentle hand on her shoulder she immediately flinched away from it. The hand withdrew, but Elladan's—or Elrohir's, she wasn't quite sure which was which when they spoke—gentle voice sounded a moment later.

"I apologize, Lady Willow. It is not a pleasant sight to see. I did try to warn you." Ah, so it was Elladan

"It's not the sight that made me sick. It was the smell," Willow replied in a mumble, her ire muffled by her sleeve. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the carnage laid out before her either.

She'd landed on the body of a dead warg, but its three brethren were close by and so were their riders. All eight of them had long bloody gashes across their chests or arrows sticking out of them at odd angles like giant pin cushions. Their eyes were wide open and lifeless; mouths agape, screaming in silence. She pulled her sleeve away as she inched farther back from the mess and almost retched again when some of the smell reached her.

She quickly started to breathe through her mouth, but that did little to abate the horrendous stench. At least she didn't heave again. "Although this is all very, _very_ disturbing to look at, it wouldn't make me puke," she finished, shooting Elladan a glare out of the corner of her eye. The guy still stood at her side, but thankfully didn't reach out to comfort her again.

Which was probably a good thing—for him. If he had, Willow could practically guarantee he'd be pulling back a bloody stump.

"You sound as if you have seen much death, my lady," came the slow reply as if Elladan couldn't decide if her indifference was admirable or disturbing. Another glance at his face told her it was a mix of the two. His thick brown eyebrows were drawn together over his long aristocratic nose, but a barely there smile pulled at his lips. She would have thought the expression cute if the turn of events hadn't suddenly made her even more wary of her new companions than she was before. Finding this mess had sullied whatever amiable relationship they'd managed to develop during the short walk back to the field.

"Not so much in person," she said, narrowing her eyes at him as she shuffled farther away from the lunatics with a medieval fetish. "But that's not the point. The point is they're _dead. _And _you guys _killed them."

"Yes, my lady." By the horses, Elrohir's eyebrows narrowed in confusion, mirroring his twin. Glancing between her and the pile of dead animals and people, understanding slowly began to dawn on him and his expression softened. His brother's did too and it seemed they realized that she was now scared of _them_. "As we mentioned before, orcs, and especially wargs, are dangerous, evil creatures with no consideration for life. They needed to be dispatched in order to—"

"_Dispatched?!_" Willow cut him off with such a high pitch to her voice that it was on the verge of hysterical and she very nearly laughed in a way that would make the Joker proud. The casualness in the way he phrased his words worried her. "You aren't in the _Hunger Games, _dude! Those guys were people like us, _not_ orcas or whatever. And those animals?" She pointed to the warg she'd recently been sprawled across sharply, her arm trembling slightly. "Vicious or not, they had rights. They _all_ had rights. What kind of fucked up game are you guys playing out here?!"

Willow was vaguely aware that she was starting to hyperventilate. Her chest felt tight and her head was woozy, but she ignored it as the twins only frowned at her. They seemed just as confused as before, but their expressions now held a little more contempt after her accusations. They looked hurt, as if _her_ being mad at _them_ for murder was the shocker here.

These guys must have been crazier than she thought.

Willow didn't care. They were murderers and even though she knew she should be running for her life—_again_—she was also aware how pointless that would be. They had horses and she only had a pair of exhausted, blistered feet to carry her and no idea where to even run. They also had the advantage of long range weaponry.

"There is no game, Lady Willow," Elladan reiterated, sounding almost annoyed. Yeah, he wasn't the only one. "_We _are _elves. _And _they_ were not human and neither them or their beasts had rights in any land. They never have and they never will. They are creatures of darkness; forces of evil that must be destroyed for the good of Middle Earth."

"'Middle Earth'," Willow scoffed, faking his accent. She shook her head in incredulity. They even had a name for their little fucked up world. Well, of course they would; they were trying to escape reality by creating a fictional one. One that probably allowed them to act out their weird fantasies with bar wenches and chamber maids because they were too awkward to go to a club or sign up on a dating site like other people.

But then, what if she had this all wrong? Normal people, even ones who LARPed on an embarrassingly regular basis, were generally sane even if they were a little odd. The friends she had that did LARP didn't go around killing people for real in their games; she knew no one took it _that_ seriously. Plus these guys were so hardcore that they knew a different language and carried weapons that she was beginning to suspect were actually _real._ From what her friends told her, LARP organizers usually checked to make sure participants didn't have anything real for the safety of other players—but mostly to protect themselves from getting sued.

Maybe. Just maybe she'd somehow stumbled upon a weird outcast subculture in the middle of nowhere that allowed people living in a different reality to play out their fantasies for therapy. Kind of like in that movie _Shutter Island_. However, in that movie no one had actually died and it was all in Leonardo Dicaprio's head. Either these guys were crazy, or Willow herself was.

She was inclined to believe the former.

During her musings Willow's gaze had traveled back to the pile of dead monsters while the supposed elves just stood there watching her. Spotting movement out of the corner of her eye, Willow tossed a glare over her shoulder at Elladan warningly. He took his outstretched hand back and he let out a quietly dismayed sigh.

Good. He could save his rescuing the damsel in distress roleplay for some other wench.

"Lady Willow," he began again and damn him, crazy or not, for having one of the sexiest voices she'd ever heard, "I know you do not trust us, but we must leave here and make for the safety of Rivendell. If we hurry we may reach there by dusk."

"Oh, I'm not going _anywhere_ with you," Willow laughed bitterly, leaning farther away and twisting her body to give him a snarl. The position was uncomfortable and probably made her look like she was drunk, but she was pretty sure her bitch-don't-touch-me face said everything she needed to. "How do I know you won't stab me too, huh?"

Elrohir made a noise of unmitigated shock and her gaze moved from his doppleganger to him. Like Elladan, his face was twisted in a horrified expression, eyes impossibly huge and mouth open wide enough to catch flies. The brothers blinked a few times, exchanged wordless glances and finally stared at Willow in consternation.

"We would never do such a thing, we can assure you!" uttered the brother farthest from her. "You have our word!"

"No offence, but your '_word_' doesn't mean jack shit to me. I just met you asshats!" If the elves' eyes could get any wider she was sure they would fall right out of their heads. She spread her hands out in an exaggerated grand gesture towards the bodies. "And the evidence is right before me, gentlemen, no use denying that you're murderers."

"Enough of this." Elladan suddenly shot forward, his shock replaced abruptly by anger and frustration. Willow, her ranting interrupted, leaned back and rose her hands in a feeble attempt to defend herself, but found there was no point when instead he moved passed her to bend over the corpses.

Rather than grabbing her or assaulting her like she might have thought he would, he grabbed at the leather chest armour of the nearest orc and hoisted it with the ease of lifting a jug of milk. Dragging the lifeless corpse closer to where she sat, Willow yelped when he dropped it in front of her.

"This is _not_ a person, we are taking part in _no _game and we are certainly _not_ murderers," he said as he knelt on the opposite side. "_This_," he continued, completely ignoring the horrified expression on Willows face, "is an _orc." _As if to drive his point home, the elf did something next that made Willow want to run away, scream and vomit again all at once.

To her complete horror Elladan unsheathed a long sharp—and admittedly beautiful—knife from his belt and with one swift arch of his arm he plunged it into the belly of the orc. Elrohir shouted at him to stop, but it was already too late. The leather armour did nothing to hinder the blade as it sunk in with a sickeningly squishy sound and then a slurp when he yanked it out again. Willow wanted to turn her head away, but morbid curiosity held her in place.

Elladan held the blade up, covered in what looked like molasses, only not as thick, and practically shoved it in her face. The fresh liquid—the _blood_—dripped off the tip of the knife as the elf held it just inches away from her nose. It smelled even worse when up close and Willow finally turned away, fighting off another wave of nausea.

"No, it… I-it's coagulated… It has to be," she tried to argue, but her voice was small and weak. Even she couldn't believe that sorry excuse for an explanation. That blood was practically fresh, the body only being dead for maybe ten minutes. It wasn't enough time for the blood to coagulate that much. That blood was as black as black could be, but there was no mistaking that _that_ was what it was.

But no. No, it just wasn't possible. It couldn't be. People didn't _have_ black blood!

"This is not human blood, my lady, this is orc blood," Elladan pressed as if reading her thoughts. He then used the knife to point at the man's—no, the_ orc's—_head and it's subsequent features. "Those are not human teeth and neither are those human ears."

All Willow could do was blink dumbly when Elladan fell silent, though he continued to bore holes into her forehead with his unrelenting gaze. But she couldn't bring herself look at him. Her gaze remained glued to the carnage laid at her feet and now seeing it in a different light, an impossible light, she felt frozen with fear. She couldn't deny what she'd just seen; couldn't deny that those things _weren't human_.

Looking at them now, she realized her brain must have been grasping at straws to cling to reality before. These creatures looked and smelled nothing like humans and the wargs should have been a neon sign in telling her that something wasn't right, but she was too stubborn to get it through her thick skull. Everything now was glaringly obvious. The elves, the orcs, the wargs… It was all real.

But it couldn't be… could it? The dead bodies, the starvation, the weird creatures; it _had_ to be her imagination. It was the only logical explanation! She was probably locked in a mental ward right now, refusing to eat in her delusions and _she_ was the one playing out a fantasy in her screwed up little brain. It couldn't possibly be all real.

Deftly, she pinched her arm. Ouch. Nope, she still had feeling. Ok, so she was hallucinating. The stress finally got to her and now she was imagining things. She'd finally cracked and was in a weird mental state wandering around a frozen city, daydreaming about mythical creatures. That's it! She was delusional from hypothermia!

Tearing her gaze away from the dead bodies, it collided with Elladan's once more. His stare softened when their eyes met and he opened his mouth to say something, but never got the chance. As fast as she was able to in her condition, Willow decided to test another theory and her hand shot out to grab the tip the elf's ear with her thumb and forefinger.

She tugged. _Hard_.

Elladan cried out in surprise and tore himself away from her touch, nearly falling into the carnage like she had earlier. She felt a little guilty for causing him pain, but she couldn't dwell on it in the face of the discovery she'd just made and the rising panic attack that was following. The tug had allowed Willow to feel the real skin and cartilage and the resistance it gave for just a moment, but it was long enough to confirm her suspicions that the point was in fact _real_ and not some cheap latex glued on for effect.

And also _real _in the sense that it not only _looked_ pointed, but it _felt_ pointed too. The point was _not_ a hallucination. Ugh, of course it wasn't. The grass and the trees and the damn scrapes she got felt real enough before, it only made sense that it was _all_ real.

Not that that realization made her feel any better.

"O-oh my god…" Her words were so softly spoken that she could barely hear them through the sound of blood rushing in her ears. Her eyes never left Elladan as he soothed his injured ear, shooting her dirty looks from under his brows. Another pang of guilt hit her, but it was quickly swept away. "You're… You're an _elf. _A real_…_ goddamn… _elf._"

"As we have been trying to tell you, my lady," she heard Elrohir gently reply somewhere off to the side.

She didn't look at him. She couldn't bring herself to move after tearing her gaze away from Elladan to stare at the mutilated orc practically hanging over her lap again. She zoned out, taking in every detail of its mottled skin and rotten, pointed teeth. His eyes were open too, staring sightlessly at the sky. They were a pale yellow with tiny, tiny pupils.

Vaguely, she was aware that she was shaking. Her body trembled like the last leaf at the end of autumn and a cold numbness was beginning to take over her, masking the feeling just as quickly. Starting in her back, it spread like liquid nitrogen to her limbs and chest until she could only feel her head. It was thick and heavy as if someone had filled it with cotton balls soaked in chloroform.

After two days, the starvation was finally getting to her. Well, either that or she was so in shock that her body just decided to shut down. In reality it was probably a combination of the two. She was scared and confused and oh so sleepy. She just wanted to nap. Hopefully, when she woke up she would be in a nice padded cell with some friendly attractive doctor that looked like Elladan telling her she would be fine in no time. She'd always wondered what those squishy walls felt like, but she knew that was too much to hope for.

She heard the voices of the elves around her, but she couldn't make out anything they were saying as she tried to concentrate on breathing properly. The harder she tried the more it felt like she couldn't get her lungs to work and her vision tunnelled. She blinked hard, the action making her dizzy, and she felt herself falling. The back of her head smacked the ground hard enough to cause stars to dance in the blackness and before she lost consciousness completely the last thing she saw in that little pinprick of light was one of the twins' concerned faces.

* * *

Elladan watched as the young woman's eyes fluttered shut and her body relaxed into a crumpled heap. He felt his own shoulders lose some of their tension as her chest rose and fell at a more steady pace than it had just moments ago. Although strange, callous and rather quick to accuse them about things she clearly did not understand, Lady Willow was still an innocent woman left on her own for days without nourishment and was in need of their assistance.

"Is she alright, brother_?_" He felt Elrohir's approach before he spoke, but Elladan didn't turn his head to look at him until he was at his side. His brother had switched back to Elvish and came to stand by his right shoulder, looking over him to take in the image of the hellion who called herself Willow Henderson. Elrohir's brows were furrowed in worry.

"I'm not certain. She hit her head when she fainted. I believe it was from shock, or perhaps malnourishment. Perhaps both. Whatever the case, she will be much easier to bring to father now_,_" Elladan replied and the look his brother shot his way made him almost rethink his flippant tone. But then he shrugged. Crossing his arms over his chest Elladan stood from his crouch and faced his brother. "What? She said herself that she wasn't coming with us willingly and you know as well as I do that she needs to see father. I see this as a gift._"_

Elrohir heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes, glancing down at the red headed stranger, sympathy taking over the exasperation quickly. "Yes, I know, but you don't have to be so crude. The poor mortal is scared and weak with no more than a few sips from your water skin_. _Which she also just voided, mind you._"_

_"_She _pulled_ on my _ear_, Elrohir!" To emphasize, Elladan pointed to said mauled ear and his brother had to stifle a laugh when he saw how red the tip was. The mortal must have had a good grip on him to leave it so red for so long, but he supposed it served his brother right for what he did. Gutting an orc, dead _or_ alive, right in front of her and shoving the bloody knife in her face like he had was no way to earn her affections.

"You deserved it and you know it, so I beg you not to complain about it the entire journey back to Imladris," Elrohir sighed.

"I won't if you agree to carry the witch. I dislike the thought of her waking up in my arms and assaulting me again while I'm only attempting to guide her to safety," Elladan grumbled, a shiver of fear creeping down the slightly older twin's spine

"Oh, I see. And letting her mistake me for you is better?" Elrohir sniped back with a scoff, but nonetheless he bent to pick up the unconscious woman. Callous and strange or not, he wasn't about to leave her here just because he was worried she'd attack him.

Elladan's grin was all the answer Elrohir needed and he kicked out at him, which his brother easily avoided. The mortal was surprisingly light for how muscular she appeared and he was relieved when she did not stir as he adjusted his grip under her knees. He began to follow Elladan towards the horses.

"Regardless of whom she awakes with, I am certain she will still feel threatened, my friend. That was quite the little fit she just had,_"_ Handion said to them as the twins approached. He'd remained waiting patiently by the horses, a smirk now on his lips as he took in the sight of Elladan's ear. Elladan scowled at his friend's teasing, but said nothing in rebuttal when his brother also let out a snigger. "I do not speak the common tongue, but even I could see she is very frightened and hysterical," the third member of their party added with a shrug.

Elladan let his shoulders slump and he sighed, knowing Handion was right. Lady Willow was… well, the only word he could think of to describe her was strange. Her clothes were strange, her hair colour and even the way she spoke was strange. And her markings and facial jewelry were _very_ strange. He had never heard her accent before, it was neither Gondorian, Rohanian nor Harad. She was a very curious woman.

Not to mention rude, but he thought that went without saying.

"Yes, I know_,_" he conceded after a moment of thoughtful silence. "Which is why we must bring her to Imladris. Our father will know what to do and perhaps he can discover where she came from."

_"_Aye, her accent is rather strange," Elrohir replied, looking over the unconscious woman cradled in his arms. She snored softly, completely lost to the world. Humans were so odd. He tilted his head curiously, noticing the object resting on her nose. "What did she call the contraption on her face again?"

"_Glasses_," Elladan told him, eyeing the hunk of metal and glass as well. Handion examined them on his other side. "She said they helped her see things close to her."

"Yes," Elrohir nodded, "and she called her tunic a _hoo-dee_."

"Very strange," Handion muttered. The twins nodded in agreement.

"Enough. We must take her away and quickly, before more orcs happen upon us," Elrohir cut in and bit back a chuckle. "Or before she awakens."

"Ah—Yes, brother, I agree. Let us make haste," Elladan coughed, turning swiftly on his heel to mount his horse while his friend and brother laughed in his wake.

Following in Elladan's footsteps, Handion came up beside Elrohir as he approached his steed, watching the unconscious woman with interest. She still snored and the metal contraption on her face was in danger of falling off with the angle her head was at. It hung to the side at a dangerous tilt over Elrohir's arm. In sleep, when she was neither hysterical nor angry, the woman was rather attractive—for a human.

His brother apparently thought so too. Initially he had used Elvish to communicate with her, assuming she knew it when her face appeared prettier than the average human's. But at her dumbfounded look, he had switched to Westron and watched as the woman's tense posture had relaxed, albeit only somewhat. Looking at her now, they should have known she wasn't elf-kind.

She was far too lean to be an elleth and her cheeks, while they had prominent cheek bones, were too rounded. Otherwise she could have easily disguised herself as an elf with her long dark lashes and small upturned nose. Her hair, however, was definitely different from anything he'd seen before. It was as fiery red as her personality and shone in different tones of scarlet and gold when the light hit it just right. It reminded him of a sunset after an evening of spring rain, almost like the Rohirim but not quite fair enough. Her markings and piercings were another dead giveaway.

"Where do you suppose she is from?" Elrohir wondered aloud as he gently passed the woman over to Handion so he could mount his chestnut mare. Elladan, already in his saddle, approached to stand beside him. Though Elrohir's question was uttered mostly to himself, his brother decided to answer anyhow.

"Mordor perhaps_?" _he quipped dryly.

Elrohir cast his brother a disapproving glare and pulled Lady Willow onto his lap when he was situated. "Don't be ridiculous, brother," he scoffed. "If she was from Mordor she would have known what orcs were."

Once the woman was in his arms, Handion turned to mount his own steed. Elrohir shifted to make sure the woman was comfortable and awkwardly attempted to push her glasses up her nose a little. When they didn't agree with him and they kept sliding back down, he decided to remove them and put them in his pouch where they would be relatively safe for the journey. He had played with the sticks that ran along her temples to hook over her ears for a few moments before figuring out that they folded inward and put them away, intrigued and curious. He made a mental note to inquire about them when she felt better.

"Besides," Elrohir continued as he took up the reigns with one hand while the other wrapped securely around Lady Willow's waist, "she made herself sick when faced with the stench of death. If she truly was from Mordor, she would have retched at the sight of you, brother dear, not them."

His twin nodded, accepting this as truth. "I agree. I wonder if what father suspects of her is true." He looked over to Elrohir's horse where the woman sat unconscious, head resting against his shoulder. "She is strange enough to consider it, that is for certain."

"I am inclined to agree with you, but we will not know more until we have her safely in Imladris. Let us make haste," Elrohir encouraged, if not only for the approaching dusk, but for the well-being of the woman in his arms as well.

The elves in his company nodded and spurred their horses onward just as he did, leaving the carnage of the battle behind to be taken care of by nature. The wolves would find it soon enough. They turned towards the slowly setting sun and urged their mounts to run as fast as they dared. In no time at all they would enter the protected gates of Imladris and Willow Henderson would be safe.

* * *

**Sooo... I know there's still not much action, but this is kind of a slow burn story. It might be a little tedious for a while and I'm sorry for that. It will get more exciting though, I promise lol Just not yet.**


	4. Rivendell

**IV**

**Rivendell**

When Willow finally crawled her way back to consciousness she still felt exhausted, but forced herself to stay awake—at least for the time being. She remembered waking up intermittently before then, but could never quite gather the strength to pry her eyes open before she'd slip away again. At one point she'd felt like she was moving as if she was in the flatbed of a truck on a bumpy road and at another she'd heard people talking. She hadn't been able to make out what they were saying, but it was nice to listen to anyhow. She was never awake long enough to figure out where she was or what was happening. And, to be completely honest, she had been too exhausted to care.

This time it looked like the waking world was going to stick around for more than just a cameo appearance and with effort Willow was able to lift a hand to rub at her aching temple. A headache had formed in the minute or so she'd been up already—or maybe it was what had woken her in the first place—and she whimpered pathetically. It was then she realized that she wasn't wearing her glasses.

The sheet that covered her rustled slightly with her movement. It was soft and comfortable and she knew immediately it wasn't her own bed she was sprawled in. Neither were the clothes she was wearing. Confusion blossomed in her mind, but everything slowly started coming back to her, making her blood freeze in her veins and her chest tighten to the point where it became harder to breathe.

Last thing she remembered she was talking to someone, a pretty guy with long hair and angry storm cloud eyes. Actually, it was more like arguing. She recalled shouting a lot that was for sure. Something about… a murder? An image of a bloody knife flashed before her mind's eye, the substance thick and black and which smelled vile beyond belief. She remembered being confused and scared and then she'd pulled on someones ear—

Oh god, she was someplace that had freaking elves and giant wolf-dog things and orcs!

Her eyes shot open, but light assaulted her retinas to the point of tears. When she was able to pry them open again Willow squinted even in the soft lighting, but managed to keep them open enough for a blurry peek at her surroundings. She took in the large king sized mattress she was laying in the centre of, the crisp cream coloured comforter and the pale brown wood of the bed posts. With a glance to her left, the dark smudge of her glasses came in to view on a nightstand and she immediately snatched them up.

The room itself wasn't very large, with only enough space for the bed, nightstand and a small vanity and armoire. The fact that one whole wall was missing and replaced by vine covered tree trunks acting as columns was surprising though. Thin white curtains hung between each tree and gave a rather breathtaking view of a garden outside even through the shear fabric. It made the room seem so much bigger than it actually was.

Willow sank into the most comfortable mattress she'd ever laid on and sighed, staring at the view. She remembered quite clearly now of wandering around the forest getting scared by bunnies and squirrels. She also remembered getting almost eaten then chased. And she definitely—unfortunately—remembered vomiting and fainting in front of two incredibly attractive elves.

Welcome to the life of Willow Henderson, where everyday you form friendships by making an ass out of yourself.

Even though the memory of what happened to her was vivid, she still couldn't believe it entirely. Elves. She'd met fucking _elves! _Despite how real it had all felt, she couldn't help but wonder once again if she was simply dreaming or losing her mind.

"What the fuck happened to my brain?" Willow groaned in self deprecation, placing her head in her hands. All she had wanted to do was graduate from college, get a career and a cat and live out her days like any other normal North American. She was supposed to be complaining about bills, failed relationships, the weather and the like and instead she was stranded in a strange place with people that were supposed to be creatures of mythology.

"Nothing is wrong with your brain, Lady Willow, I can assure you."

The sudden voice made her yelp in surprise and Willow's head shot up to see the single door in the room was open and standing in the threshold was an elf she didn't recognize. He looked a lot like Elladan and Elrohir with the same long brown hair and grey-blue eyes. Instead of a long shirt and pants he wore a billowing maroon coloured robe which appeared to be made of silk. It had delicate gold and silver embroidery along the hems and parts of it shimmered in the light spilling in from the open wall.

There wasn't a wrinkle on his face, but he somehow seemed older, much older than the twins. It was his eyes, she thought. They had a different age than what his face portrayed. But it was obvious that he was related to Elladan and Elrohir somehow. The resemblance was uncanny.

In her surprise Willow had grabbed at her blankets and clutched them to her chest. Before all this madness started she used to sleep in her undies and it was just instinct from when her roommate used to walk into her room unannounced. Embarrassed, she now realized that her clothes covered her chest modestly and she slowly dropped the fold of fabric back into her lap.

The disturbing part was that they weren't _her_ clothes. Instead of her favourite bra, a tank top and jeans, she was in a white cotton nightgown with long tight sleeves, a low, but still discreet, neckline and a skirt she could feel catching on her bandaged feet. Remembering the elf that had just entered, Willow smoothed her sweaty palms over her thighs and tried to return the warm expression he offered her, but it probably ended up looking more like a grimace.

His smile widened, crinkling the corners of his eyes a little. He came fully into the room and quietly shut the door behind him before stepping up beside her bed. Clasping his hands in front of him, he watched her closely, waiting for her to make the first move and possibly assessing her mental state.

She internally snorted. Him and everyone else. Willow included.

"Hi. Um, are you… Elrond?" she asked uncertainly. This guy looked too young to have twin sons in their twenties, but she could have been wrong. Maybe he was just really into facials.

"Yes. I am the Lord of Imladris and the master of the Houses of Healing. My sons brought you here yesterday evening suffering from malnourishment, dehydration and a minor concussion. How are you feeling?"

"Like crap on toast," she replied bluntly, though honestly. At his blank stare she bit her lip and tried again. "Uh, I feel a little stiff and headachy, but not too bad, thanks."

"That is to be expected," Elrond replied just as calmly as before and he turned to retrieve the wooden chair from the vanity. His steps were so light that they made no sound on the stone floor and his robes made him look like he was floating. Huh, maybe it was an elf thing.

He set the chair next to her bed and sat, posture perfect with his hands folded neatly in his lap. Not wanting to appear rude, Willow shuffled to sit up and subconsciously tried to sit a little straighter as well.

"I have asked that food be brought to you," he continued. "When you arrived here we managed to coax you into drinking some water when you showed signs of consciousness, but you were never awake or coherent enough to eat. I know you must be hungry."

As if on cue Willow's stomach gurgled and heat blossomed in her cheeks. "Thank you," she said, clutching at her belly. "And uh, thanks for... taking care of me... and stuff. I'm sorry if I insulted your sons too. I just… I've never seen pointed ears before, you know? And I was kind of freaking out. Actually I'm still kind of freaking out." She let out a chuckle, but it sounded more like a nervous titter. Elrond just nodded, seeming to understand. "You… do know what happened, right?"

Aware that she was beginning to babble, Willow's mouth snapped shut. The elf's lips twitched in amusement.

"Ah, yes, my sons have told me of the incident, but there was hardly any need." Willow blinked and furrowed her brow. The twitching became a tiny conspiratorial grin as Elrond leaned forward and lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "Elladan's ear was still red when you arrived."

"Oh, god," she groaned and face planted into her hands again, being careful to avoid bending her glasses. "I am _so_ sorry. I was just trying to see if they were real. I had no idea I was doing it to a Lord's son!"

Elrond looked ready to laugh, but he easily kept himself composed. "It's quit alright, child, but I can assure you that they are very real," he said. "And perhaps in the future you will remember that elves' ears are very sensitive as well."

"Oh yeah, absolutely. I promise I won't violate any more of your people. My Lord. Sir." She made a face at her awkwardness. She wasn't really sure how she was supposed to be addressing him, but she figured she did alright when Elrond didn't move to correct her.

"I am glad to hear it," he nodded, then his expression turned serious. "However, there is still the matter of how you came to be here to discuss and we shall when you have eaten and regained your strength. It is not a light subject."

Again, Willow was confused. "What do you mean? You said your sons brought me here."

"I did not mean Imladris." God, his eyes were intense when he wanted them to be. Elrond gave her a look that seemed to hold a deeper meaning to his words, but Willow couldn't fathom what that might have been.

But then it hit her and she mentally smacked herself for being so stupid.

"Oh! You mean how I ended up in that forest?" Elrond nodded. "Haven't the foggiest." Willow's arms lifted in a shrug and fell back to the mattress with a thump. "Sorry."

Elrond's lips twitched into another smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Those, for some reason, seemed almost sad and she was about to ask what was wrong when there was a knock on the door. They looked up in unison as a pretty brunette elf entered the room with a platter full of food. She smiled kindly and bowed her head to Lord Elrond before offering the tray to Willow. She accepted it with a grateful nod and a 'thank you' and the elf responded with another bow before ducking back out of the room as swiftly and quietly as she'd come in.

Willow's stomach gave another loud growl and without further prompting she was stuffing chunks of delicious cheese and bread into her mouth with gusto. Elrond watched her for a moment in amusement before standing to return the chair he'd been sitting on to the vanity and striding towards the door.

"Eat, Lady Willow, and try to rest a while longer. You still need to heal. I will send someone to you shortly." Before he could exit completely, Willow forced a half chewed cube of cheese down her throat.

"Wait, what about our discussion?"

Elrond smiled. "It is nothing that cannot wait until you are feeling better. Please rest until then."

She wasn't sure if it was the food, the comfy bed or the gorgeous view outside, but Willow felt a little more relaxed than she had in what felt like forever. With good food in hand and a gigantic bed to take full advantage of, she planned on enjoying it while she could. Sitting a little straighter, Willow grinned and gave Elrond a salute that Captain America would have been proud of.

"You got it, Doc. Thanks again for everything, I really do appreciate all your help."

Elrond seemed a little bemused by her actions, but still nodded and said nothing as he left the room. Willow was left alone with her mound of food—that unfortunately didn't include meat slices—and the soothing sounds of birdsong in the air. As she watched a pair of sparrows chased after each other, she couldn't help but be thankful that after the nightmare of the passed few days she could finally rest without worry.

She had relative safety, good food and a great view. If she knew getting stranded in the wilderness would end up with her in a city full of beautiful people and colourful scenery she would have gladly volunteered. This was the best outcome of a worst case scenario. This place was better than a hotel.

Though she really could have gone without the monsters and starvation.

But she was still tired and her headache was hurting something awful. She resolved herself to a few more precious mouthfuls of delicious fruits, filling her long empty stomach. Willow decided she would get a few more hours of much needed sleep before she had to face the inevitable.

She didn't know exactly how long she slept but when she first woke up again it was dark outside. Heavier curtains were drawn over the translucent ones and everything was silent except the crickets and frogs. She'd closed her eyes and when she next opened them, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Willow heaved a great yawn, rolling over to grab her glasses from the nightstand and stood up for the first time in almost two days.

There was a new tray of food already waiting for her with a cup of orange juice instead of milk this time. When she stood she was a little wobbly, but with the help of a bed post and some mental discipline, she managed to stay standing long enough to have a few bites of breakfast. Then she slowly stumbled over tender feet towards the closet.

As cozy as the nightgown was it was a little translucent, save for the breast area, and as comfortable as Willow was with her body she still wasn't liking the idea of parading around practically naked when someone could just walk in. Someone had taken off her underwear and she could see her own lady bits in the vanity's mirror. That just wouldn't do.

Upon opening the closet, Willow squealed in glee, clapping her hands when she spotted her clothes, clean and folded neatly on a shelf. She snatched them up and after a first glance proved no underwear, she dug deeper. Letting out a triumphant whoop when she found both bra and panties stashed at the back of another shelf, she grabbed them as well. She left her wool coat on the wrack.

Dressed and feeling almost normal again in her jeans, tank and hoodie, Willow grabbed her tray of goodies and ate some more. Sitting on the end of her bed, she turned her gaze to the garden outside her room through the one open curtain. Whoever brought her food must have opened them to let in the growing light of morning. The sun was still low, lighting the vibrantly colourful garden in a beautiful orange hue.

The garden itself was spectacular. The grass was as green as green could be and the cornucopia of flowers was like nothing she'd ever seen before. There were a few that Willow recognized, such as tiger lilies and roses, but there were some others that were less familiar. There was a small blue flower that kind of reminded her of a daisy if it was crossed with a lilac and a few others that were strange but no less beautiful.

The sky was clear and promised another bright sunny day. Birdsong and the tinkling of running water tickled her senses. Willow couldn't imagine ever being in a more peaceful place. Even her room, which had been her sanctuary for years, couldn't compare.

Then again, her room smelled like stale doritos and perfume. So, there was really no contest.

The air here was crisp and clean and filled with the scent of flowers. Willow happily decided to hang outside rather than the bedroom. She wanted to take part in the beauty these elves had to offer.

Approaching a lone stone bench, Willow set her tray down on the seat and promptly flopped down on the grass beside it. Peace flowed through her as she ate. She'd never felt so calm and content; so relaxed. It was as if this place, Rivendell she supposed it was called, was drawing her in and she was very tempted to let it. The fruits were probably aphrodisiacs, Willow thought to herself with a stupid grin. Rolling her eyes at her own ridiculousness, she continued to nibble away.

It was just as she was beginning to fully unwind with her elbow propped up on the bench beside her tray when her solitude was disturbed. One minute she was chewing on a delightfully succulent strawberry and the next she was choking when an embarrassingly familiar voice broke through the calm quiet tranquility of the garden.

"Good morning, Lady Willow, I am glad to see…that you are fairing… well…" The voice of one of the twins slowly faltered and died as Willow hacked into her elbow, eyes watering. Through her blurred vision she saw him round the bench in front of her, as tall as Shrek, but by far more stunning, his head tilted to the side like a curious puppy. "I apologize for startling you, My Lady. I sometimes forget how quiet elves are to humans," he added sincerely.

"Don't sweat it, I should have been paying more attention to my surroundings," Willow wheezed out between coughs, waving her hand at him dismissively.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said when it felt like she could breathe properly again. She began to wipe the tears from her eyes. "It's just my favourite fruit just told me it doesn't love me the way I love it."

Her eyes finally clear, she blinked, sniffled loudly and looked up at the elf twin—she had no idea which one. He stared back at her with a look that almost made her break out into a fit of snorts and giggles. Instead she grinned.

"You converse with strawberries?" he asked, looking at the partially eaten fruit still clutched between her thumb and two foremost fingers with a strange kind of frown.

Willow finally couldn't help it and snickered. "No, I'm trying to say I'm upset I choked on it."

"Ah."

"So, uh, anyways. I'm feeling fine, thank you. How are you today?" she asked, blushing lightly as she once again remembered their last encounter. She didn't think she'd be so nervous to see one of the twins again so soon, but now that one was here she wasn't sure how to proceed.

The elf gave her a disarming smile. "I am well, thank you. I'm glad to see your injuries are healing quickly. My father is well known for his skill as a healer."

"Yeah, I hear he's a master." She avoided eye contact and stared passed at the bush behind him, trying not to let her gaze wander to his left ear. She failed and finally caved, feeling another blush creep up her neck.

"If you are worried that I am Elladan then you have nothing to fear, Lady Willow. I am Elrohir," he said, quickly noticing her odd behaviour. The elf smirked at her, steel blue eyes twinkling in amusement. Willow slumped forward in relief.

"Oh, thank god!" she moaned, dropping her head into her hands, a bubble of awkward laughter shook her shoulders. Across from her, Elrohir took a seat and casually began tossing cubes of cheese into his mouth.

Lifting her head again and propping her elbow up on the bench, she perched her chin on a fist. "But since we're on the subject, how the hell am I supposed to tell you two apart?"

The elf just grinned. If it was anyone else the devilishly handsome picture he made would have been marred with bits of cheese stuck in his teeth. As it was, he was still perfect. Damn him.

And he seemed right at home too, way more comfortable and carefree than she remembered him being last time they met. It was like being home brought out the giddy spirit in this elf and it was obvious even to a stranger such as herself. Willow smiled at the sight. It was kind of refreshing to see a person let loose so freely in front of someone they didn't know. Willow had never felt like that and she marvelled at the thought.

"That's for us to know and for you to find out." Elrohir finally replied, bringing Willow out of her musings.

"Seriously?" She attempted to give him her best pout, but apparently elves were immune to her particular brand of charm. Then again, most of the male species were. Elrohir was the picture of poise as he tossed an orange slice into his mouth and chewed silently, staring at her unflinchingly with a smile.

Willow gave up with a huff. "That's just mean."

Shaking her head she grabbed another strawberry and thought for a moment before she tried one last time. "Can you at least give me a hint?"

The elf made a show of thinking her request over, tapping his chin for effect before shrugging. "You have to look very closely."

"What's that supposed to mean? One of you has a tiny mole or something?" Willow frowned and Elrohir only winked, smirking wickedly.

"You said _a _hint, as in one, and that is what I have given you. However, one thing is for certain; you will have to see Elladan again to decipher it."

"Ugh." Willow shoved another fruit, an unrecognizable purple cube, into her mouth and let the new yet deliciously sweet flavour distract her for a moment. It tasted like a pomegranate, but a little more tart like a sour apple. Interesting. Yummy.

Given his reaction after she pulled on his ear, Willow wasn't exactly jumping at the thought of seeing Elladan again anytime soon. She wouldn't blame him for being mad as hell at her. She would have been just as pissed if he was the one to yank on one of her piercings. His brother and father seemed amused by the whole ordeal, but she was incredibly embarrassed by it.

She'd always had a problem with saying or doing something awkward at the worst times. She could have been considered reckless or disrespectful to some, but she had a brain that liked to act before she could tell it to stop. It manifested in a lot of ways—such as yanking on unsuspecting elf ears or shouting accusations when she was frightened, for example. And she always paid for it later.

She was just weird like that though. Her mouth was usually chirping away—_especially_ when she was nervous. More often than not it came with a lot of wild hand gestures and blushing. She suspected her face would become permanently scarlet if she ever saw Elladan again. That meeting would probably be unavoidable, however, so she might as well prepare herself for it.

Swallowing the purple fruit finally, Willow glanced at Elrohir again. "I guess I _should_ apologize to him," she conceded. He smiled and glanced at her as if to say 'you think?'. "But it'll have to wait. I have strict orders from your dad to rest and eat before we have a chat. I've already done one today and I plan on doing the other without looking like a tomato." Tossing another purple cube into her mouth, she nodded once in finality.

The elf chuckled. "Yes, you've slept away an entire day already. I'd imagine you'll be running off pulling at elves' ears again soon enough." He winked as Willow's cheeks tingled with heat and she threw a grape at him in retaliation.

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" she huffed petulantly. Elrohir just laughed.

"No," he shook his head.

"You jerk." Laughing, Willow continued to throw more food at the elf who did his best to dodge the fruit and veggie missiles. She managed to land a hit every few launches but it severely decreased when Elrohir turned the tables on her. He also starting throwing food and before they knew it they were having a full on food fight.

It only ended when the tray was empty. Her orange juice had been caught in the crossfire and the goblet lay overturned. The orange liquid was smeared over the tray and dripped onto the bench, then finally to the grass below. The earth soaked it up greedily and Willow pouted across the bench at the elf.

"You spilled my juice," she whined. Elrohir chuckled out a halfhearted apology and his only recompense was to reset the overturned goblet.

Ignoring her accusation—when really neither of them knew who had knocked it over—he sighed dramatically. "My father instructed you to rest and here you are starting childish fights with your meals. Do remember to keep your blood pressure down, My Lady, we wouldn't want you to harm yourself."

The damned elf was teasing her like they were in elementary school, all bark and no bite; kind of like a brother. His grin held no malice or ill will and Willow couldn't help but return his good-natured smile. It was such a rare opportunity to find someone as childish as she tended to be without being under the age of ten. Willow felt a giddy bubble of warmth in her chest at the rarely experienced feeling of finding a kindred spirit. Suddenly she didn't feel so alone. And to think it was only a couple days ago that she thought he was a deranged stranger she had accused of murder.

Laughing, Willow found a stray piece of bread and picked it up, chucking it at the elf in one last attempt at a kill shot. With reflexes the likes of which she'd never seen before, Elrohir expertly dodged it and produced a hidden chunk of cheese from out of nowhere. He launched it so fast Willow had no time to react and the cheese hit her square in the forehead.

Strangely giddy, Willow made a show of dramatically falling back onto the grass, arms spread out beside her and her head tossed to the side in the classic impression of a dead body. And no stage slaying was complete without the good ol' death speech.

"_Oh!" _she keened, eyes shut firmly as an expression of exaggerated agony contorted her features. It took everything in her not to burst out laughing again as she placed the back of her hand to her forehead. "Shot and taken before my time!" She sniffled loudly. "So young… So beautiful…"

Her voice deepened and her 'faint hand' shot out towards the sky, fingers spread as if she was reaching for the heavens themselves. "Tell them," she crooned. "Tell them my story." She tilted her head sharply to look at Elrohir and almost cracked at the look of barely withheld laughter on his face. He tried so hard to hold it in that his face was as red as Elladan's ear had been two nights ago.

By some miracle she managed to hold it together.

"Remember me," she continued to warble, making a fist of her outstretched hand and thrusting it against her chest. "Remember who I was and _know…_ that the world has lost a fine warrior. _Nay… _a _hero_!" Her body slackened and she looked back up to the sky. "I see… I see the light. It calls to me, beckons me closer and I shall go to it willingly. For death… is only the beginning…"

Looking back at a red-faced Elrohir with one last deep breath, Willow used every bit of strength her lungs had for the finale.

"GOODBYE, CRUEL WORLD!" The moment the words finished passing her lips, she promptly collapsed in a dead-weighted heap on the grass.

Almost immediately Elrohir's laughter resounded boisterously across the garden and Willow sat up to watch as the elf rocked backwards with his arms wrapped around his stomach. His head was thrown back in uncontrollable mirth and when their eyes did finally meet, Willow grinned broadly. She stood, bent at the waist and swept out her arm in a deep bow. When she straightened again she did her best at curtsying, somewhat succeeded, and promptly plopped back down.

When their laughter finally died, Elrohir, with a few remaining chuckles, tossed another cube of cheese at her, lighter this time, with more of an arch. Without hesitation, she slumped and veered to the side, successfully catching the cube in her mouth. She threw up her hands in triumph and Elrohir whooped loudly.

"So what has you up so early?" she asked when their second wave of laughter died out and she was left to pick out bits of food and leaves from her hair.

"Elves rise with the sun. As do you, so I see."

Willow scowled slightly. "Yeah, it's a rare occurrence. I sleep better in the dark, but someone came in and opened a curtain before dawn and the light woke me up. I don't mind really. Like you said, I've slept long enough."

"You needed it," Elrohir said, nodding kindly and shrugging one shoulder as if to say 'no sweat'. "You were without food or drink for too long. It tends to addle the mind."

"So I've heard," mumbled Willow. She was then reminded of her other injuries and looked at her bandaged hands. Best not remove those, she thought. She wiggled her nose and felt her cheek pull tightly on the left side. She'd forgotten to examine her tree hugging gone wrong incident when she'd caught her reflexion in the vanity earlier. She was a little distracted by how obviously her cooch had been showing.

She looked at Elrohir. "Hey, remember when I schmucked that tree? There was a cut on my cheek. How does it look?"

The elf's eyes scanned over her face briefly. "It is healing well. There is some bruising and the gash had been a little deeper than we expected, but there should be minimal scarring regardless. I did mention my father was a skilled healer," he replied after a moment.

"That you did," Willow chuckled. Damn that was fast. She could feel the sticky bandage tugging at her skin when she smiled, but there was no swelling and barely a hint of pain. Skilled healer—that was an understatement. With how hard she hit that tree she very nearly could have needed a plastic surgeon.

"And what of your other injuries, how do they fare?" Her new soon-to-be-best-friend inquired kindly.

"My hands are fine, I think. It's my feet I'm worried about. I can tell they're better, but I'm too scared to removed the bandages just yet," she said, picking at the knot tied at her ankle. The bandages engulfed her leg from the tips of her toes to her knees, something that made her pause. Had the blistering from her boots really been that bad? They _did_ almost reach her knees, but… _Jesus._

The wrapping was so thick and cushiony that Willow felt like she was wearing a pair of knee high lounging booties instead of bandages. On her hands, however, they felt like mittens and she scratched irritably at the webbing it made between her fingers. The worst part about getting bumps and scrapes wasn't the actual pain, as one would expect. It was the endless case of itching that followed during the annoyingly long healing process.

"I am sure they will be healed in no time, Lady Willow," the elf across from her assured.

"Thanks." Willow bit her lip, and debated against asking her next question, but did it anyway. Why start holding her tongue now, anyway? She'd already made the _colossal_ mistake of calling him and his brother murderers; how much worse could she possibly screw up?

"By the way…" she started, "can you just call me Willow? The 'lady' thing is really starting to creep me out a bit."

"I'm sorry if it offends you, it was not meant as such. Quite the opposite," Elrohir said sheepishly, blinking at her in partially masked bewilderment. He frowned as if he did't know how to apologize farther so she saved him the trouble.

"No, you didn't offend me. It's just weird. To me," Willow hastily moved to add and the elf, who had gone stiff with worry, relaxed again. "I'm just not used to it. I'm just Willow or Will to most people."

"Will does not seem to suit you," he mused in return, his embarrassment quickly forgotten as he placed a finger to his chin. "Willow is also lovely, though it doesn't seem to quite flatter you either. But it will do for now, I suppose. I have permission to address you as Willow hence forth then?"

The woman snorted at his words—which she couldn't decide was actually a compliment or not yet—and laughed at his questioningly arched brow. She nodded. "You certainly do, good sir."

"Then you must call me Elrohir. There is no need for titles amongst friends, don't you agree?" the elf winked at her and Willow smiled again. She doubted she'd be able to remember to call him 'my lord' or 'Lord Elrohir' anyway, so it was just as well. And it was nice to hear him call her a friend. It made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. Sure, she'd started considering him a friend in her head already, but to hear him say it out loud still made her happy.

But she knew the feeling wouldn't last.

Though currently content, Willow had this funny feeling in her gut that shit was about to hit the fan real soon. With her discussion with Elrond looming just around the corner she could only worry that her gut was trying to tell her something she wouldn't like was going to happen during that little chat. Over the years she'd learned to trust her gut and while it did sometimes lead her astray, she didn't think it was doing so in this instance.

There were unknown factors here. There were elves in a secluded part of the world living under everyone's noses, using archaic forms of warfare and battling evil monsters and their hellspawn puppy dogs. Had she somehow found herself in a weird dimensional shift of some kind? Her trekkie brain roved over the possibilities, but Willow pushed them away. _Star Trek_ was a TV show; not everything scientifically portrayed in those series was actually real.

Willow spent the next little while chatting it up with Elrohir and while there were significant cultural barriers—such as her slang versus his proper speech—they got along famously. He apologized again for the way she was treated at their first encounter, but Willow had brushed it off, saying that if anyone should be apologizing, it was her. Willow admitted to being _horrible_ at first impressions and she would be the first to confess that she hadn't exactly been at her best when they'd first met.

Elrohir had laughed and didn't deny her words. He went on to say that if there was any apology that should definitely be made though, it was to come from his brother. No lady should have to have an orc tainted blade shoved in their face, he'd said. Willow had agreed, but also conceded that she had been acting like a stubborn brat and probably deserved it.

They eventually agreed to just call it even. Easy, peasy, lemon squeazy. Convincing Elladan would be the same, Elrohir assured, and Willow hoped he was right. She didn't need enemies in this place. She and the elf were becoming fast friends and the redhead wished for the same with his twin. The last thing she wanted was to cause a rift between siblings.

Birds tittered and frogs croaked as they sat talking comfortably. The sun rose high enough to bathe the valley in golden light and Willow marvelled as nature came alive around them. Flowers opened and little bunnies and squirrels came out of their safe enclosures in search of food. It truly was peaceful here in Rivendell and Willow gladly basked in the sun's warm glow. It was relief after spending most of her life in a large, crowded city. Impending chats awaited on her doorstep, but at the moment Willow didn't give two fucks and for once just let herself enjoy a perfect moment in time.

—

**Hey, everyone! I'm so so _so _sorry for this _super_ late update. In short, I've moved a couple times over the last couple months and just today got internet again. The first thing I did was hop on here and upload this chapter after one last bit of editing. I wanted to make sure it was pristine for your viewing pleasure. That being said, I hope you all enjoyed it! I'm going to try and get the next one up soon, I promise!**


	5. Lie to me Please?

**V**

**Lie To Me… Please?**

Willow heard the knock on the door echo through her room and into the garden a little while later. She moved to stand and allow the person to enter, but she'd barely gotten to her feet when the same pretty maid from yesterday entered and scanned the room for her human charge. After finding it empty, her gaze flickered towards the garden. Willow waved kindly, if not a little shyly, as the maid approached then turned a curious eye to Elrohir when he suddenly stood. The pretty elf bowed her head to the young lord and he returned the gesture with a nod.

"It appears your meeting with my father has arrived," he said in lieu of explanation when Willow gave him a slightly puzzled look. "I will take my leave of you now, my friend. Perhaps we will see each other afterwards."

"Yeah, I'd like that," Willow replied, nodding and giving him a small tight smile. Who knows? She'd probably need a friend after this discussion if the feeling in her belly was any indication. Her insides were doing flips and twists like performers in a _Cirque_ show and she was getting dangerously close to tossing the meal she'd just consumed. Willow really didn't have a good hunch about this meeting. She could clearly remember the somber way Elrond's eyes had looked upon her when he'd mentioned it the day before; sad and reluctant as they were. No, she wasn't expecting happy news at all.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that offer for a walk too," she added, somewhat more softly. "You know, get to know this place a wee bit better."

Elrohir grinned, disarming her with his easy charm. It made the nervous clenching in her stomach settle a bit. "An excellent idea. Shall I find you in the gardens later?"

"Sure," Willow nodded again. The elf dipped his head in a small bow, hand over his heart, and started making his way down a side path walking backwards. "I don't know how long the meeting will last, but I'll meet you somewhere where there's flowers and stuff."

With one last chuckle and wave of farewell, Elrohir was gone and Willow was left alone with the elf maid who had been waiting patiently nearby for the young lord to leave. When he was out of sight, the little—she was actually quite tall, but Willow just thought she was so damn cute!—elf gestured for Willow to follow her back into the room and promptly closed the shimmering curtains the moment they were inside. Willow was then dragged over to the vanity where a bowl full of warm water and a cloth sat waiting for her.

Glancing at her reflexion, Willow made a face. Despite Elrohir's reassurances that the cut on her cheek was healing, it still looked nasty to her. The scab was thick and mottled, darkened and ridged slightly under the lightly bled-through bandage. The skin around it was a mixture of purple and green, but it was relatively clean otherwise, presumably from when Elrond had tended to it. However, the rest of her face, neck, chest and forearms were blotched with remnants of sweat, dirt and—she gulped—probably warg or orc blood. The only parts of her that were clean were where she'd been injured. She suddenly felt bad that the crisp white nightgown she'd woken up in was now probably stained on the inside. Whoops.

After carefully removing her mitten-like bandages, Willow took up the soaked cloth and gratefully started cleaning herself off as the elf behind her procured a brush seemingly out of nowhere. She began combing through Willow's dirty thick curls, sneaking curious glances at her through the mirror as Willow scrubbed at her face. The woman noticed the elf's wandering gaze and once she'd moved onto her neck and ears, she caught the girl's eye when next she looked up.

The elf froze, but Willow smiled warmly. Hoping the elf spoke English, she decided to give it a shot. "What's your name?" she asked quietly.

The girl blinked in surprise. "Verya, My Lady," she said. Her voice was so soft and sweet it practically dripped with honey. Jesus, were all female elves as adorable as this one? If so, Willow definitely was not going to fit in here. It was going to be hard to fit in if they were all like that and Willow was… Well, the complete opposite.

But she was relieved that the girl could speak English and Willow let out a small sigh. "That's a pretty name. I'm Willow, nice to meet you."

"Likewise, My Lady."

Willow's smile teetered a little. Still with the 'my lady' nonsense.

"You don't have to call me that," she told the elf as she continued her scrubbing to under her arms. She was starting to smell ripe after several days without any deodorant. She pitied the elf behind her for having to endure it. "You're brushing dirt and blood from my hair while I wash my pits and titties," she added with an indelicate snort, "I think that puts us on less formal ground, don't you?"

As if to prove her point, Willow nodded to her arm currently shoved down the front of her shirt, the cloth and her hand lost under the tank top and sweater. To her surprise, Verya's pretty face didn't contort into disgust or awkwardness like she expected it to. Instead, her lips tipped up in a smile and she giggled behind a dainty pale hand. A shy blush rose on her dimpled cheeks.

"True," she acquiesced and resumed her brushing with an air of grace Willow was sure she'd never be able to master. She tugged gently at a stubborn knot at the back, but under Verya's skilled fingers it came loose in no time. "You are very open with yourself."

Willow shrugged lightly. "I grew up with a Granny that had no patience for knocking and played sports throughout high school. You learn not to bat an eye at being naked, or at least partially naked, around other chicks." She ignored Verya's confused frown and rewet her cloth, carrying her washing on to under the other arm. "What about you? You don't seem to be very bothered by it either."

"We are an open community," the elf explained, finally getting Willow's hair tangle free. It was still stringy with oil and god knows what else, but it was the best that could be done at the moment. Willow nodded in understanding through the mirror to the girl then narrowed her brows as a thought struck her.

"Wait, are you trying to tell me that ya'll are nudists?"

"I… don't know what that word means, but what I mean to say is that most of us bathe in a public bath house so we are comfortable around each other." At Willow's bewildered, open-mouthed stare, Verya grinned slightly and gave the woman a tender, if not slightly patronizing, glance. "It is separated for ellon and elleth, only the same genders bathe together for propriety, except for some families. We are not barbarians."

Willow chuckled dryly, pink dusting her cheeks, but she ignored it. "Hey, neither am I," she assured the maid, lifting her hands in a surrendering motion. Finished washing up—or as best she could get done at the moment—she dropped the cloth back into the bowl of now dirty water. It had become a gross shade of brownish red. Lovely. "I only got full frontal in girls only change rooms. Guys don't get to see my lady bits until I say so."

"Interestingly put, but well said," giggled Verya. "Now come. I will escort you to Lord Elrond."

The pair departed from the room then and the elf—or elleth as she'd mentioned—led her swiftly through the halls. Willow stumbled over her bulky wrapped feet, but managed to keep up well enough. Soon Verya was tapping her knuckles on a set of huge double doors carved with the same swirling vine-like designs as she'd seen throughout the rest of Rivendell as they'd walked.

Lord Elrond answered and beckoned her inside with a warm smile at her wandering, slack-jawed gaze as she examined the room. Willow hastily scuttled through the threshold, taking in what was clearly a study of some kind, filled with comfortable looking furniture, an ornate wooden desk and rows upon rows of shelves spread between two levels. Elrond let her explore for a little while, but soon they got down to business and by the end of the conversation Willow found herself shaking like a leaf and ready to upchuck her breakfast once more.

Nothing. Absolutely _nothing_ could have prepared her for what truths waited for her when she entered that study. She had spent a lazy morning joking around with a new friend. She'd basked in the sunshine and filled her stomach with deliciously rich food—which now desperately wanted to come back out as her stomach clenched with anxiety—before having the most fun impromptu food fight she'd ever participated in. She had a feeling that something she wouldn't like was going to be said during this conversation and while she'd expected it, she hadn't prepared herself for the bombshell that was dropped on her.

And now here she sat, hunched over in an annoyingly comfortable red armchair with her head nestled between her knees, an elf and a _wizard_, of all things, hovering at her back a few feet away. The overstuffed bookcases, marble statues, finely spun tapestries and large, beautifully crafted wooden desk that she had first admired upon entering couldn't hold her attention anymore. Neither could the balcony encircling the upper half of the room or the large floor to ceiling window behind the aforementioned desk. Bright afternoon sunshine filtered in on her, but it did nothing to abate the chill she felt deep in her bones.

She could sense their eyes on her, boring holes into the back of her head and it didn't exactly make her churning belly feel any better or her mind any saner. It was just too ridiculous to think about realm hopping or dimension shifting or _whatever_. There was no way she was in another world, period!

She played the moments since her arrival into Elrond's study over and over in her mind, hoping to find any hint of deception so she could finally call them all out as frauds and demand a phone to call for the police. She wanted to find anything that would convince her that what she was reluctantly beginning to accept as the truth was actually all some kind of sick joke. To convince herself that what was happening _could_ _not _possibly be in accordance with reality as she knew it.

But the more she thought on it the more she believed it. It was radical and insane, but the trekkie inside her couldn't discount entirely what she'd just heard.

_"__Please, Lady Willow, have a seat," Elrond asked her, voice as smooth as silk and interrupting her fixation on the amenities of his study. He smiled again when her head snapped in his direction and he gestured to an armchair situated close by. Quietly, she accepted the seat and crossed her legs at the knee, resting her hands on her lap._

_Willow smiled inwardly. Gran's scoldings were finally paying off. She'd never much cared for sitting pretty and polite before, but Elrond seemed like the type of guy that would appreciate that sort of thing. Even though she felt like she was sitting there getting ready to have a job interview, Willow decided to wait quietly for Elrond to continue when he was ready._

_It was then that she realized that she and the elf lord were not alone. Across from her, Willow caught the eye of an old man dressed in grey rough-spun robes and who was seated on the love-seat that matched her armchair. He winked at her when their gazes met and a smile curled over the long wooden pipe sticking out of his mouth. Everything about him was grey; from his head and facial hair to the pointed hat sitting beside him. Having read so many fiction type novels in her lifetime, Willow knew immediately what he was before she even registered the dark wooden staff cradled in the man's free arm. He was a wizard._

_"__Oh, hi. Hello," she chirped, surprised she hadn't noticed him before. It's not like he blended in with the decor or anything. _

_The old Wizard's smile grew wider, the crows feet around his aquamarine eyes becoming more pronounced, and he released his pipe to blow out a puff of sweet smelling smoke. To Willow's amazement and delight the cloud formed itself into a dragon with its wings spread wide and a little waver around its mouth that served as fire. It floated in the air briefly before it dissipated, the wisps of grey dissolving into the rays of light from the window._

_Willow looked back at the wizard, a grin spread a mile wide across her face and she clapped in appreciation. He chuckled heartily and she almost expected him to grumble a fond 'Oh, you young whipper-snapper' at her. Off to the side, Elrond's serene smile was calm and elusive and had Willow been paying more attention at the time she would have noticed the hint of solemn resignation etched into his ancient wizened eyes._

Now, in hindsight, Willow realized she should have been paying more attention to the elf right from the beginning and not some old coot's parlour tricks. If she had she'd be saving herself a lot of mystified shock right now. Or maybe not. Honestly, she didn't know if she'd be reacting differently if she'd been given some warning. The revelation that the wizard—Gandalf, as he preferred to be called—brought to light was still hitting her hard even half an hour after the initial blow.

As it was, Gandalf had successfully drawn her in with his antics and a jubilant personality only to thrust her into the nightmare she now faced. It was ridiculous. Unfathomable. Laughable, even!

Another world? Seriously?

_"__Considering how the house of Elrond speaks of you, my dear, I almost expected a more unique introduction than that," the wizard chortled, waving the thin weathered stick of his pipe at her. "I was under the impression I would be dealing with a rambunctious little imp, not a beautiful and polite young lady."_

_"__I'm an acquired taste, that's all I can say." Willow grinned at the compliment, shrugging. "You've caught me on a good day. If you met me two days ago I don't think you'd be laughing so much."_

_"__Oh? And why is that?"_

_"__I'm sure you've heard of the ear pulling incident?"_

_The wizard's icy blue eyes twinkled merrily. "I have."_

_"__If I'd met you instead, I can guaran-damn-tee you that I would have tried to pull off your beard." When he began to laugh, Willow smirked. "For authenticity's sake, of course."_

_"__My Lord Elrond, I do believe we have found a rather unique gem in this dear girl. The fire in Smaug's belly holds no contest!" The wizard's raspy with age laugh was loud and echoed off the walls, causing Elrond to flinch almost imperceptibly. The elf closed his eyes for a moment then seemed to shake it off._

_Feeling at ease in the Wizard's presence, Willow allowed her good posture to melt and she slumped into the cloud that the elves called a chair. It was like pure heaven in a pillow. She sat back, knees falling apart but her legs shifting in a way that was still allowed it to be appropriate. Her toes peeked out from under her wrappings, a little numb from the cold stone flooring and she curled them back, shivering. Her elbows propped themselves on each armrest and Willow let her hands dangle in her lap. Comfortable and relaxed, she settled in. If there were serious words to be exchanged eventually, she appreciated the fact that she had somewhere nice to sit._

_The old wizard rose from his seat then and disappeared his pipe into the grey folds of his robes. He offered Willow a galant bow. "I am Gandalf the Grey, dear Lady, and it is a pleasure to meet you."_

_Willow would have stood up to shake his hand politely, but Gandalf was already moving to walk around the back of the couch to stand with Elrond. Instead, she settled on giving him her most winning smile. "I'm Willow. Nice to meet you too, Mr. Gandalf."_

_Looking over to the elf lord, Gandalf's humour was still present when he asked: "I thought Elladan had said she was impertinent?"_

_The squeak of indignant protest from Willow had both older beings turning to smile at her as her mouth flopped open and shut like a fish out of water. When no immediate rebuttal seemed to come to her, she crossed her arms over her chest and pouted. Offended as she was, she couldn't deny that her meeting with the twins had been less than perfect._

_With a chuckle that only fathers seemed to be able to produce, Elrond shook his head._

_"__It is a matter of perspective. Lady Willow seems to respond better when she is rested and well fed. This was not the case at their last encounter. I find you to be quite pleasant as well, Willow."_

She remembered the feeling of warmth in her chest when Elrond sent her that gentle smile of his. It was the feeling she'd always thought she'd get from her Gran after her parents died, but to this day hadn't felt since she was seven. It made her feel safe. The way her dad used to make her feel when she did something reckless and ended up learning a good lesson from it. Don't climb the roof without permission or supervision had been one of them. She had the old x-rays back home to prove it.

"_Mithrandir." Elrond turned to the wizard, his expression turning serious. "As much as I wish to put Lady Willow at ease at a time such as this, I do believe there is a matter we must discuss." One dark brow lifted in pointed suggestion as Elrond's head tilted a fraction to the side, a slight indication in her direction. The wizard's smile slowly fell away to something more serious as well and he bobbed his head in agreement._

_"__Yes, my friend, I think that would be best," he agreed and turned to address the woman who was lounging in the armchair, watching them curiously._

_Not for the first time, Willow got the impression that her presence was more than just a simple little thing. In her room earlier Elrond had observed her with a kind of a distant air, like he was there in body but only partially in mind. Now, with the looks that both him and Gandalf were giving her, Willow felt that bubble of anxiety her chest constrict her breathing. That look was so similar to the one she got from the police officer when he told her that her parents were dead._

_That look never boded well and she recognized it for what it was. Pity. But for what reason did they have to feel sorry for her? Her injuries were healing and she'd no doubt be able to go home soon with one hell of a story to tell. The roiling in her belly told her it probably wasn't that simple though..._

_"__So…" she drawled uncertainly, keenly aware of the mounting tension in the room. "What's going on?"_

_"__I am afraid," Gandalf began with a deep breath, "that what we are about to impart on you is not an easy thing to hear. It will have to be handled most delicately." After a few moments when he didn't continue, Willow let out an annoyed sigh through her nose, her good mood all but forgotten. She had never been particularly patient and she'd much prefer to get whatever they had to say out of the way as soon as possible._

_"__Does 'handling it most delicately' mean you have to drag it out like a Chinese torture victim? Just drop the suspense and spit it out. You're killin' me here." Gandalf's lips quirked slightly in amusement, but Elrond remained impassive. "Look, whatever you have to tell me I think I can handle it. I just spent two days in a bush and almost got killed by two very scary things on the same day." And she passed out when Elladan had shoved a bloody knife in her face, but that was besides the point. "I'm not exactly a patient person so I'd appreciate it if you'd just get to it already. Please."_

_The two older beings exchanged another glance before Gandalf turned to fully address her while Elrond swept around them to stand near the window behind his desk and stare out into the garden. Clearly he was leaving Gandalf to do all the talking so Willow sat forward in her chair, giving the Wizard her full attention. He only paused for a moment longer, scrutinizing her all the while, before he finally spoke._

_"__Tell me, Lady Willow, from where do you hail?" he asked._

_Willow's eyebrows shot up to her hairline and she blinked. "Uh, Manitoba, Canada, but I was technically born in Texas. Why? Gonna call me a cab?"_

_Gandalf ignored her sarcastic and clipped tone. "What do you remember before waking in the forest?"_

_Willow sighed. "Well, it was snowing, for one thing, and cold as hell. I was in a cab driving home."_

_Gandalf's already thin lips pursed, disappearing behind his bushy moustache and beard. Willow couldn't tell if he was confused or annoyed and she didn't have time to ask before he continued his questioning. "__And then?"_

_"__I don't know. I just remember having a weird-ass dream and then everything went black. When I woke up I was in a clearing and suddenly summer."_

_"__And have you any family?"_

_"__Well no, not anymore." Willow could hear the frown in her own tone which wasn't surprising. She didn't want to play twenty questions, but for some reason she kept answering him anyway. "My parents died in a car accident when I was little and my Gran raised me after, but she passed away last year from cancer."_

_"__Siblings?"_

_"__No, I'm an only child. What does this have to do with anything? I thought you wanted to tell me something, not get my life's story." Her frustration was obvious in the way her body tensed. Was it normal for people in this place to be so annoyingly elusive? She had hoped that when asking where she lived, Gandalf would have told her there was a car outside waiting to take her to the airport or something, but apparently that wasn't the case._

_Once again, Gandalf practically payed no attention to her annoyed tone and looked passed her to address Elrond with a solemn, "I believe it may be true, My Lord."_

_Elrond uttered a quiet hum. "Indeed. I was afraid I may have rushed to conclusions, but it appears not."_

_"_What's_ true_?" _Willow demanded __waspishly_. _They ignored her._

_"__She must stay here for the time being where she will be safe," Elrond continued, turning away from the window. He and Gandalf shared a grim frown._

_"__Yes, I agree—"_

_"__What, why? No, I want to go home! Why do I need to be kept safe?!" _

_Willow had had enough and she finally pushed herself to stand, demanding their attention. She held back the urge to stomp her foot like a toddler and instead clenched her fists at her sides. Her chipped nails dug into the scabs on her palms and her heart rate was starting to pick up again._

_Anxiety ate at her insides. As nice as this place was, it wasn't home. She didn't want to stay in Rivendell. She wanted her bed. She wanted her normal, relatively safe, if not a little boring, life back. No wargs, no orcs and no getting almost killed by the wildlife. "Now, stop talking about me like I'm not even here and tell me what the _hell_ is going on!" she ordered them sharply._

_In any other situation she might have smiled or even laughed over the fact that she was barking demands at two much older and wiser supernatural beings, but as it was she was too freaked out to do anything but glare, cheeks burning with anger. Were they doing this on purpose just to get a rise out of her? If so, she felt another impulsive need to start slappin' some bitches until she got some answers._

_"__Be calm, Lady Willow. We will explain everything in due time. However, I suggest you sit down. It will be much to take in," Elrond implored her, lifting a placating hand. She could tell that her outburst had surprised them. Despite herself, Willow couldn't help but listen to him and promptly sat back down. She pouted heavily, arms crossed over her chest._

_"__Fine, I'm listening," she grumbled petulantly, "but that means you guys have to actually tell me_ _something instead of being cryptic jerks."_

Oh, how she wished she'd never said that. Yes, being purposely kept in the dark about where _exactly_ you were was kind of unethical, but, as they say, ignorance is bliss. An elf and a wizard were a little difficult to accept, but not impossible. She'd always kind of hoped there was something magical or supernatural about the world, even if she was too much of a realist. For all she knew, they could have been genetically modified or mutant humans.

But she never thought she'd be asked to believe that she wasn't even on her own planet or dimension anymore.

_"__My dear, the way you articulate and the things you speak of are confusing to the elves, as well as myself, and we look at your clothing and accessories as if we have never seen them before. Have you noticed this?" Gandalf asked._

_Willow couldn't help but roll her eyes and ran a hand through her messy hair in an attempt to calm herself. Again with the questions. Though annoyed, she decided to humour him, hoping it would actually lead somewhere. "Ya'huh. So?" she shrugged._

_The corners of Gandalf's wrinkly eyes deepened in a ghost of a smile. "And have you wondered why that is?"_

_Willow frowned. "Well… They're elves. And you're a wizard. And I haven't seen any people like me around here yet. Plus you seem to be stuck in the Middle Ages so I'm assuming ya'll are sheltered or something. Like, on an island. But how would no one know about you? You got a deal with the government or somethi—?"_

_Gandalf held up a weathered hand to stop her babbling. "Perhaps we are sheltered, as you put it, and by your standards we possibly could be. We can never know, but there is a reason for our confusion and it is not because we live on some secluded island. The only explanation is that you are simply not of this land—or, more precisely, this _world_."_

_Whatever protest Willow might have been prepared to unleash died on her tongue and she stared at Gandalf disbelievingly. Talk about ripping off the bandaid. No build up, no foreshadowing. Unless you counted all his questioning_—which she didn't.

_After a blink or two, her eyebrows narrowed and she uttered a half-scoff, half-laugh. "Bullshit."_

_"__I beg your pardon?" The wizard's head perked backwards in bewilderment._

_"__What do you mean I'm 'not of this land'?" Willow deepened her voice and butchered the accent in her attempt of mocking Gandalf, but she was sure she still got her point across. She was pissed. How _dare _they play with her like this! She tried to take a deep breath to regain some semblance of composure It didn't work very well. "Because if you're saying what it sounds like you are then you have to be insane because that's not possible."_

_"__Lady Willow—"_

_"__Stop calling me that!" she snapped. Willow was vaguely aware that she was crying only because her glasses were starting to fog from the enraged heat flaring from her cheeks. "I'm not a Lady! I'm not! I'm a normal _fucking_ person from a normal _fucking_ place with a normal _fucking_ amount of college debt and I did not somehow magically transport to another _**fucking**_ dimension!"_

_"_**Willow**_," Gandalf barked, not unkindly, but she jumped anyway, hiccuping a sob. Elrond came up beside the wizard and through her haze of tears she could see the pity in the steel blue depths of his gaze. "You are using your anger as a shield to stop yourself from accepting what you know you feel is true." Gandalf's tone softened and he stepped forward, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. She flinched away, just barely managing to stop herself from smacking him. "You know what we say is in accordance with the facts. You have never seen an elf before or magic of any kind, have you? Just as we have never met anyone like you in all of Middle Earth. Which is no small island, I can assure you."_

_"__N-no…" she stuttered, shaking her head furiously. "It's not_—_It's just can't be_—... _There's _no way_ it_—_" She turned her back to them, unable to utter a single clear protest without her brain jumping to the next one. She also couldn't stand the pitying stares they gave her and she needed to process what they were trying to say without being tempted to start throwing punches. Her hands were shaking and her jaw was clenched so tightly she thought her teeth would crack under the pressure._

_It _was not_ possible, it couldn't be. That sort of thing just_ didn't_ happen!_

_... Right?_

_ Her whole body was trembling now, but a warm hand pressed against her forehead and the next thing she knew a wave of calm enveloped her and she felt lightheaded. Then she was being guided to sit back down and she didn't have the will to try and push the hands moving her away. The red cushions of her previously vacated armchair welcomed her back with open arms and she slouched forward, breathing heavily between her knees. She may have felt calmer, but her stomach still clenched and unclenched uncomfortably._

Now here she was, still going over those few minutes that sent her world and everything she thought she knew about it crashing around her into itty bitty pieces. She knew that Elrond must have done something to her to get her to cool down long enough to sort through everything; probably some of that magic that Gandalf had mentioned. Regardless, she was grateful for it. Willow had never had a problem with her anxiety in the past, but it was nice to know that in a time like this there was someone to bring her back from the edge.

_I guess they don't have inhalers in this world, huh?_

In this world… God, it was hard to fathom that she was the farthest away from home she could possibly get. She didn't know how it was possible, but she had to admit that Gandalf was right by some sort of strange logic. All the facts pointed at her being Dorothy and Kansas was more than just three heel clicks away. Her sudden disappearance from a place as white as Santa's ass hairs to a forest in the middle of summer, the elves, the physically impossible smoke dragon, the orcs, the wargs! There was no way any of that was possible where she'd come from, even if it was 2036. She might have been adversely influenced by her love for sci-fi, but really, what else was she supposed to think about what happened to her?

It must have been a mistake. A fluke. Unless something in this world had brought her here. She shuddered at the thought. What purpose would bringing her to a land of mythical creatures serve?

"I'm sorry." Willow knew the two men behind her had heard her even though her voice was quiet and muffled since she lifted her hands to cradle her face. They shuffled but didn't immediately reply. The woman sniffled and began wiping the partially dried snot and tears off of her lips and cheeks. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"It is alright, my dear. We realize this must be quite a shock to take in."

Willow let out a dry, humourless snort. "You could say that."

"What is important is that you know you are safe here," Elrond told her, coming around to face her. He took one look at her red puffy eyes and pale skin and reached out to take one of her trembling hands gently in his own. Willow felt another wave of that calm warmth wash over her and she smiled weakly at him in appreciation.

"There is more, I'm afraid," Gandalf interjected in a low tone and Willow turned her attention to him as he rounded on her other side. He stopped in front of her and leaned heavily on his staff, gripping it with two gnarled hands. "Although we are certain that you are from another realm, the fact remains that we have no means to return you there. Whatever power it was that brought you is beyond our knowledge for it has never been heard of before. Therefore it appears that you are here to stay. At least for the time-being."

"I'm stuck here?" Willow's voice was breathy, nearly a whisper. The information sank in and forced another crack in her already fractured composure. At Gandalf's sad nod of affirmation, she gripped Elrond's hand a little tighter, holding on to the one thing keeping her from losing it completely again. She could go nuts later and process it in her own time, preferably in private, but right now this conversation needed to happen whether she wanted it to or not. She wasn't _that_ stubborn. Just _really_ freaking scared.

"But what about your magic?" she tried again, desperation creeping in. "Someone on this rock has to be powerful enough to create a portal of some kind to get me back, right? We don't have magic where I come from and somehow it still happened. Maybe you can harness that?"

"It is not possible, I'm sorry," Gandalf denied, shaking his head sadly. "Such a thing is unheard of. Until your arrival, we had no knowledge of any world outside of our own and it must remain that way. You are extremely fortunate to have arrived so close to an elven border and not somewhere in the east." The old wizard gave her a meaningful look. She couldn't appreciate the seriousness behind that stare yet, but she knew that in time she might learn. She could only guess he meant something to do about orcs.

"As for now, myself, the House of Elrond and the city of Imladris will be the only ones to have knowledge of you and where you come from," Gandalf continued. "There are other trusted allies we will speak to about your situation, but otherwise I believe we should remain silent on the matter."

"Why? Is this really such a big deal?" Willow blinked, a little shocked. They seemed to be handling this situation well. Better than her, at any rate, and she was from a place that was waiting for alien contact any day now when it was once thought of as sorcery. Pushing back the bubbles of anxiety still somersaulting in her belly, Willow allowed the calming effect from Elrond do its magic. Taking a deep breath she released him with a nod.

"Yes, it is," the elf lord responded, deciding to remain close. That was probably a smart thing given how fragile she was right now. "There is a great evil in this world, Miss Willow. A kind of evil you may not be familiar with taking into mind that you come from land without magic, but it is dangerous nonetheless. If some dark creature with enough power learned of your existence and the power that brought you here, you may become a target and as I intend to protect you it makes my kin a target as well. I do not wish bloodshed upon my people."

These guys knew this world better than she ever could; Gandalf appeared to be older than dirt and Elrond had the wisest eyes she'd ever seen. There was no reason not to take their advice. She'd keep her mouth shut, help keep his people safe. But she also couldn't help but lament the fact that if she never arrived in the first place, they wouldn't have to be kept safe at all.

"I wouldn't want that either," she agreed with a sigh. "Whether this place is home or not, I don't want people to get hurt because of me. And besides; since I'm stuck in this world, I might as well start to think of Rivendell as my new home considering its people were the first to take me in." She smiled thinly at the elf lord. "Thank you for letting me stay. I know I've been a bother. I plan to earn my keep as soon as I can figure out how."

"Nonsense," Elrond said with a wave of his hand. "You are a guest here and I would be glad if you were to consider Imladris as your home." His eyes sparkled with a smile, but his face remained neutral "I want to help you adjust to your new surroundings; there is no need for your recompense for I seek none."

"Well, whatever the case, I owe you one."

"One what?"

Willow finally managed the first real grin in what felt like forever, her eyes rolling. "Never mind."

"Now that that's settled, you should explore and acquaint yourself with the city. Lord Elrond and I have other matters to discuss." Gandalf reached out and took her hand in one of his rough wrinkled ones. He tugged gently, effectively getting her to stand while Willow nodded, considering the notion.

"That's a good idea. I think I might take a walk or something. You know, process all this." She laughed lightly, twirling her finger around her head. "Elrohir said he would take me for a walk in the gardens later so I'll probably do that." But no sooner had the words left her mouth did she stumble and Elrond, having quicker reflexes, caught her by the arm to keep her steady. Willow gave him a weak smile and a short grunt, placing a hand to her throbbing temple. "Maybe I spoke too soon…"

The headache from when she first woke up still lingered and it decided right now was a good time to flare in full force. Willow winced, clenching her eyes shut with a hiss of pain and tried to ignore it, but it it was no use. In an instant it was as if her brain was made of TNT and exploded behind her eyes causing her to double over. She would have fallen if Elrond hadn't caught her again. He was saying something to her, but the rushing sound of blood pumping in her ears drowned it out. His voice was nothing but a dull murmur against the tsunamis in her skull.

She moaned pathetically and pressed the heels of her hands into her temples, hoping that it would help abate the throbbing, allowing the elf lord to keep her standing with his arms around her waist. Slowly, after what felt like hours of agonizing torture, the pain began to subside until it went back to being an annoying tick at the back of her head. Shaking and feeling a little nauseous, she took a few slow deep breaths and patted Elrond's hands linked in front of her when she felt like she could stand on her own again.

"It's okay, I'm alright." The elf lord hesitated for a moment longer before allowing her to straighten out and let her go. When she was standing upright again, she fixed the position of her glasses and cleared her throat. "Sorry. Just got a flash migraine. Probably something leftover from the concussion, I guess. It's better now."

Elrond eyed her for a long moment, eyebrows still deeply furrowed in concern. "You are certain?"

"Absolutely," Willow assured, giving him a smile that she hoped was convincing even though she still felt like throwing up a little. "See? Just fine, I promise. I'll go for a walk with Elrohir and get him to take me back to my room after. I think I might nap some more." As if to punctuate her words, she yawned, her jaw cracking loudly.

"It won't be necessary for you to return to the healing ward. I arranged for permanent lodgings to be prepared for you and I will inform Elrohir of where it is so he may lead you," Elrond told her.

Willow blinked in surprise, shocked at how quick he'd set things up for her, and blushed. She'd been independent for so long she forgot how nice it was to be taken care of. "Thank you," she replied softly, slightly in awe. She seemed to be saying that to him a lot lately. The kindness of these elves was incredible; they beat the Canadians by a long shot.

Elrond merely dipped his head in a bow. "My pleasure."

With one final tight smile and a wave of farewell, Willow turned and exited Elrond's study, letting the large wooden doors swing shut behind her. Turning to the right, she veered off the open hallway and headed straight for the gardens, suddenly desperate for a wide open space and fresh air.

* * *

**Here's another one for you guys! :D See? Told you it would be out soon lol I thought it only fair since you waited so long for the last one (even if this story isn't very popular**—_**yet. **_**I hope it will be, anyway) I hope you enjoyed it. I know it might seem a little cliché, and it probably is, but I'm going to try and make things as little Mary-Sue as possible. There will be elements of it of course, in the coming chapters ****especially, but I'm hoping other things will help make up for that. Please review if it suits your fancy! Thanks, ya'll! **


	6. Second Chances

**VI**

**Second Chances**

The moment the doors were closed and Elrond could hear the strange young woman's footsteps disappear, he rounded on Gandalf with a frown. "That was no mere migraine," he stated, never needing to mince words with the wizard who had since reclaimed his seat on the couch, smoking his pipe. "My magic, Middle Earth's magic—it is effecting her."

"I know," Gandalf declared with a hum. "I felt it when I took her hand."

"What could this mean?" Elrond, though his mind was racing with possibilities, kept a calm facade and gazed out his favourite window. Beyond it was the garden his wife, Celebrian, had once tended to so diligently. It was when he had stared into the garden not four days passed that he had the vague foresight of Willow's arrival. The view had always provided him with a sense of warmth and comfort. Since that day he'd spent much of his time contemplating the woman in that very same spot, hoping the calm he felt there would give him more insight.

"Many things," Gandalf replied, his low baritone barrelling through Elrond's thoughts, "But what is for certain is that Middle Earth's essence is remaining inside her."

Elrond nodded solemnly. He'd come to the same conclusion and a frisson of dread entered his heart. If the enemy ever got her within their grasp... Well, he couldn't imagine the torture she would endure. Someone had obviously been gathering the forces of darkness for quite some time now and if word ever reached them that this woman was from another realm and could absorb magic then it would certainly not bode well for Willow Henderson. They would attempt to taint her, sway her to their evil ways, and whatever knowledge she held—whatever advanced forms of warfare she may be privy to—would be lost to the enemy. It only solidified his belief that Willow should remain in Imladris as a secret; protected for as long as possible.

However, he still had one questioned that begged an answer.

"How is this possible?" Elrond muttered in bemusement. He doubted Gandalf had the answer, but he felt the need to ask regardless.

"I know not for certain, my friend," the wizard sighed. A ribbon of thin grey smoke swirled around his head with the puff of released air, the lines about his eyes and mouth deepening as he frowned in thought. "Perhaps, being from a realm of no magic, it makes her soul an empty vessel for it. Middle Earth may be trying to correct this incongruity by forcing whatever magic she comes into contact with to be absorbed. Perhaps it is a gift from the Valar themselves. We may never know." In response, Elrond's eyebrows narrowed contemplatively as well.

In theory it was possible; it was much like a poison invading the body only instead it was magic. When he'd first encountered Willow's unconscious body in Elrohir's arms he had felt nothing from her. Even men of this realm had some degree of magic inside them and Willow had none at the time. She had clearly been alive, although dehydrated and concussed. However, her magical presence had been nonexistent. Empty, void of warmth.

Then, just minutes ago, he'd felt the tingle of it under his hands as if he had been holding on to a hobbit instead of a woman. If Gandalf's hypothesis was correct, then the magic Elrond had used to heal her from her injuries had only caused her to take it all in and store it like a nutrient. He'd been astonished it had even worked on her at all since at the time she'd been void of magic. But it had and the woman was now wandering freely in the gardens of his home with barely a scratch.

Imladris alone was awash in its own magic as well, surrounding her constantly. They had no notion of what it could do to her. Or what it already was doing. Or even for how long it would continue to occur.

He then thought of the sudden migraine that had nearly sent Willow sprawling to her knees in pain. The elf's back stiffened. "She is fighting it, whether she realizes she is or not," he comprehended aloud and at Gandalf's hum of agreement, his expression hardened. "If she had been found amongst men perhaps she would not be absorbing so much so fast, but elf magic is strong. Her body is struggling to accommodate it."

"Are you proposing we relocate her to a city of men? I can take the girl with me to Rohan or perhaps Gondor. She might like to see what Middle Earth has to offer and she may be missing her own kind," Gandalf suggested and watched, unsurprised, as the elf lord instantly shook his head.

"No, she is already beginning to make friends with one of my sons, at the very least, and I suspect Elladan will not take long in forgiving her. She is a brash woman, but charming in her own way; the type that my children tend to be fond of. It would not be right to take her from that. I have a feeling she may need it more than we fully realize." Elrond smiled briefly. It was Aragorn all over again; his sons befriending a strange toddler human that grew into a warrior man under his care. "And she has already taken in enough magic that no matter where she is it will effect her the same. I feel responsible for her as well, as it was my sons whom I sent to find her and my healing magic that began this. I fear with this new development that she may not be safe in less protected areas; orcs and other dark beasts tend to plague the world of men more often than they do my people. No, she must stay here for now so that I may watch her. In any case we seemed to have made a remarkable discovery."

"And what do you suppose will happen when, or if, her body fails?" One bushy grey brow rose high and dubious on Gandalf's forehead. Clearly, the wizard wanted to protest, but he saw the wisdom in Elrond's words. Given her condition and her fragile mental state it was indeed safer if the girl were to remain in Imladris where the elf lord could keep an eye on her—at least for the time being.

Elrond sighed and stared out across the vibrant colours of his wife's garden. "As there is no way to stop it, we have no choice but to wait and see."

—

_I can do this_, Willow told herself as she ran her hands along a few hip high bushes. Yeah, she was upset, but if she really thought about it her situation wasn't all that bad. It definitely could have been worse, that's for sure. If she really was stuck here, she couldn't have imagined a more beautiful place. It was a struggle to be equally sad and happy at the same time, but Willow had always been full of contradictions. On the plus side, all her school dept and life problems were gone, but on the reverse she was in a completely unfamiliar place with unfamiliar customs—she'd probably have to get used to shitting in a hole, for christ's sake. Actually, there was bound to be a ton of things she was going to have to get used to.

Like, did they have toothbrushes? What about deodorant? Oh god, what about _tampons_?

Willow shook her head to dislodge those unpleasant thoughts. Instead of focussing on the bad, she wanted to focus on the good. There were so many new experience ahead of her now and she wanted to see what this strange new place had to offer. How could she not take advantage of this opportunity when it was a one in a gazillion chance?

She had an ear for languages so if they wanted her to learn theirs then at least it was something fun and interesting to keep her busy for a while. She'd always liked to work with her hands and, hot damn, learning to sew an outfit or forge a weapon medieval style sounded incredibly fun. And if this place was as dangerous as Gandalf and Elrond made it out to be, then it only made sense she learned how to fight, right? That is, of course, assuming the gender bias in Middle Earth wasn't equal to that of Earth's earlier patriarchal mindset.

She ignored the fact that she was secretly fangirling and actually thinking about LARPing in a positive light. She'd never done it before, but had secretly always been curious despite how stupid she thought it was. Maybe if she had swallowed her pride she would have been a little more prepared for this debacle.

Willow followed the sound of running water and swept her feet out in wide arcs as she walked over the grass and stone pathways. Breathing in the fresh air filled with the scent of flowers, she smiled and took a turn in the direction the running water seemed to be coming from. She passed several bushes of plants she'd never seen before, carefully sculpted statues and benches, gazeboes and outdoor gathering areas filled with comfortable looking furniture. Their frames were made from still growing trees with their roots firmly planted in the ground and flowers bloomed all around their bases.

Willow marvelled at the sight. The elves seemed to be at one with nature, accomplishing the one thing that her own people continued to fail at due to greed. As sad as she was to be separated from her home and its endless technologically advanced amenities, if there was one thing she'd want to take back with her if she could leave it would have been the gardens of Rivendell. For twenty-four years Willow watched as her world's global economy and diplomatic tensions grew worse with nature getting caught in the crossfire. Here nature thrived and was celebrated, not forgotten about and used for profit.

It wasn't long until Willow found what she was looking for and she separated from the path that led to a bridge which ran over the steadily flowing water. The river was fed from a waterfall not far in the distance and Willow stared at it for a few seconds before taking a seat at the river's edge, close to the path and out in the open as a precaution. Just in case she fell in, she wanted at least the possibility of someone seeing or hearing her.

Hiking up her jeans, Willow began to unwind the wraps placed around her feet and lower legs. Inch by disgusting inch her skin was revealed in a pink and white mess of old blisters and whatever paste the elves had used on her. Bits of dried goop and dead skin clung to legs in desperate need of a shave and once she had both feet free, Willow promptly dunked them into the water. She sighed as its coolness soothed her aching limbs and allowed the current to make them sway lazily to the side. It wasn't a strong current, but she had no doubts that if she were to fall in she might be pulled down by an undertow. As and extra precaution she leaned back on her hands and grasped at the fronds of grass beneath them. Though she doubted it would help much if she slid in, it made her feel better.

Willing her body to relax, Willow let out a sigh that seemed to take all her tension with it. Well, not _all_ of it. She still worried about her fate in this new land full of magical creatures, but for now she wanted to enjoy the peace she felt washing over her. She'd never been to a waterfall before and she marvelled at the sight and sounds it made in the distance. A continuous white noise swirled around her and even though the falling gallons of water were fall away she could still feel a light mist dusting her cheeks. If she wasn't so worried about falling into the river she might have been tempted to lay back and have a nap.

But one thing about being in a city of elves she was going to have to get used to, was the fact that they were so damned quiet. They seriously all needed a little bell around each of their necks. Not for the first time that day an unexpected voice startled her out of her tranquil moment. It was deep and teasing, yet annoyingly familiar.

"Careful. I would not enjoy having to jump in and rescue you from the depths of the river, My Lady."

"_Ghay'cha'!_" Willow cursed and snapped her head around to find an elf she definitely recognized grinning behind her. Muttering a few more unintelligible curse words under her breath, Willowed pulled her feet from the water and turned around to face him fully. Her sudden spike in adrenaline began to fade and her heart rate returned to normal. She gave a grumpy huff.

"What is up with you and your fetish for scaring me?" she grouched, scowling up at him.

The elf's teasing grin faded and one chocolatey brow raised, much like his father's. "Excuse me?"

"Don't play innocent. Less than two hours ago you almost made me choke on a strawberry and now I just about jumped into a river. It's like you're trying to kill me." Despite her grumbling, Willow laughed softly and pushed herself up from the ground, shaking off her wet feet. The elf just remained watching her in confusion and when she approached him, he leaned back, eyeing her warily.

Willow's head tilted to the side and she gave him an odd look. "What's up with you?"

"I don't underst-"

"Willow! Elladan! There you are," another voice suddenly chimed in jovially and not a moment later an identical elf draped an arm over the first's shoulders, grinning devilishly.

The elf currently being used as a crutch frowned at his twin, but said nothing. Willow, on the other hand, froze in place. A blush began to creep up her cheeks when she realized who she'd been talking to and that she'd forgotten that her new friend had an _identical_ twin. One she happened to assault just two days ago.

She turned a glare on Elrohir who merely smiled like a moron. That sneaky little shit.

The grinning elf ignored her icy stare and continued to speak as if the moment hadn't suddenly turned awkward. "Adar sent me to escort you to your new living quarters and I thought it would be a marvellous opportunity for you two to make amends," Elrohir drawled, winking knowingly at Willow while patting his brother's shoulder. Elladan jerked forward with the force behind the 'pat' and brushed off his brother's arm with a scowl.

She was going to strangle that no good cheeky bastard someday, Willow swore it. But today already had enough stress and she didn't want another small misunderstanding with one of the noble sons to make it any worse. So instead of smacking Elrohir atop the head like she desperately wanted to, Willow sighed and gave Elladan a sheepish smile. As awkward as she felt, she pushed passed it and her pride to offer the apology she knew had to come out sooner or later.

Heaving an empowering deep breath, Willow began. "Although he's an ass for springing it on us this way, Elrohir's right. I want to apologize for pulling on your ear the other day. I had no idea how bad it would be and I promise it will never happen again. _And_ I'm sorry for being all bitchy to you just now. I thought you were this idiot." She jerked a thumb in Elrohir's direction. "I'm aware I'm terrible at first, second, and probably third impressions."

Elladan seemed to mull her clumsy words over for a moment, but it wasn't long before he smiled kindly. "Thank you, but I should also apologize. What I did with that blade was harsh. You had every right to be frightened. My father tells us you are from another world and therefore I cannot hold you responsible for not knowing that elves' ears were so sensitive."

"And I'll keep that fact in mind from now on. Ears are a no-touch zone just like the ball-" Willow sucked in a sharp breath when she realized what she was about to say and tried not to snort, her cheeks burning hotter. "Uhm—I mean n-nothing. Nothing at all. They're just—uh, no touch. Got it." She lifted her hands in a clumsy thumbs up, feeling extremely awkward. She was going to have to remember to reign in her potty mouth. It wasn't a big problem now, but it tended to get worse when she was nervous or upset. Eventually someone would ask her to tone it down. Someone always did.

"So, do you want to just start over again?" she asked then, trying to give her best smile without grimacing, still stinging with embarrassment. When Elladan smiled and nodded despite her weird behaviour she thrust out a hand. "Let bygones be bygones? Say, 'hi, my name is Willow' and all that?"

"Indeed," Elladan chuckled as he accepted her hand. She shook it once and was about to release him when he tightened his grip just enough to guild her palm downwards. To her surprise, the elf leaned over and placed a gentle kiss upon her bare knuckles.

"And I am Elladan. As you are new to this land, I believe we have some lessons to teach you on how we properly greet a beautiful young woman to Imladris," he winked. Willow's mouth parted in shock while Elrohir laughed. Recovering when she saw the slow grin spreading across Elladan's face, she snorted and playfully smacked his shoulder with her free hand, effectively dislodging his hold on her.

"And I'm sure the overabundance of flattery is also a requirement. You two are horrible." Shaking her head, but unable to stop herself from smiling, Willow took up the discarded wraps from her feet and pushed passed the brothers towards the stone pathway. "But since it's been a _really_ long day, I think those lessons are going to have to wait a little while until after I've had another nap. This morning has drained all my energy."

"It is passed midday now," Elladan told her and she balked. The elf laughed at her expression when she halted to stare at him with wide eyes.

"You're shittin' me."

"I… do not know what that means…" Elladan frowned. He cast a glance to his brother, but his doppleganger merely shrugged, equally confused.

Willow brushed aside their confusion, frowning slightly as well. "Damn. I must have been out of it longer than I thought," she muttered to herself, but quickly shook the thought away. Looking back at the twins she heaved another breath. _Freak out later, when you're sleeping_. "Whatever, nevermind. Look, I really need a nap. Room? Please?"

"Ah yes, of course," Elrohir chirped, ignoring her muttering and twirling around on the spot to keep in perfect stride with her when the duo came to her side and began walking again. "Adar instructed us to escort you to where you will be staying from now on and to bring you anything that you may require."

"Thank you," Willow replied earnestly.

"Our pleasure," Elladan smiled from her opposite side where he still faced forward. "And perhaps when you have rested we can take you on a more in depth tour of Imladris. It will be our first lesson."

"Yes, and in several day's time we can test your knowledge with a blindfold perhaps," added Elrohir who then dodged Willow's hand when she tried to poke him.

"No. No blindfolds. And tests? You make it sound like I'm going to college again," Willow chuckled as they rounded a corner, heading deeper into the structure and away from the sunlit garden.

"What is 'college'?" The question was posed in unison by the identical brothers and Willow nearly stumbled when she did a double take. For a moment she felt like she was seeing double, but it was actually reality.

She shook her head, focussing. "You know; school, but for young adults." When the elves merely blinked at her she sighed. "It's a public place people go to study for the career they want, supposedly, for the rest of their lives."

"So it is an apprenticeship?" Elladan guessed.

Willow made and unintelligible sound and her face twisted in negation, "Uh… not exactly. Some people do that, but not all of them. Public school is a place where people go to learn during the week. We start young at around five and usually go until about eighteen. After that you have the choice whether you continue or not."

"That is a remarkable system. Giving freedom of choice yet also a set of rules to a certain degree. Your home world must have a very dedicated people," Elladan praised, genuinely shocked complete with dropped jaw syndrome. Elrohir was no different.

Willow hated to crush their mystified vision of the place she called home, but had to give them a sad smile. "Dedicated sure, but not always to the right things. Some are harmless, but others can be dangerous. Freedom of choice has just as many drawbacks as a strict set of rules does. Sometimes, no matter what you do, there will always be chaos. Darkness; light. Peace; mayhem. You don't know what one is without the other."

The twins frowned and fell silent as they contemplated her words. Willow stopped talking as well, lowering her head in embarrassment and wondering just where in the hell that had come from. She didn't consider herself a philosophical person—she'd never even taken a single class—but it had just popped out like her word vomit. Good god, being in this place was starting to melt her brain. Soon she'd be talking like Shakespeare.

Sunshine steadily turned into torch light. The route the brothers took her on dipped and twisted confusingly, but Willow was able to keep track of their path by using several landmarks. She was confident that next time she was alone she had a fairly decent idea of where she was going, or at least a general outline. She just had to remember that if she got lost, all she had to do was wander around until she found the half naked elf-lady holding a harp statue. From what she noticed so far, no two statues were the same.

Willow silently thanked the twins for keeping a slow pace to allow her to keep up without getting tired. Elves had crazy good stamina. Willow, however, did not. All these stairs were going to be a problem, she just knew it, and she cursed the elves with her in Klingon quietly when she noticed neither one of them were breathless or sweaty like she was at the top of each flight. She was glad they'd gone silent and stopped getting her to talk though 'cause it would have been embarrassing to try to hold a conversation when she was huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf.

Finally they stopped her at a set of small double doors which were intricately carved with the vine designs that seemed to be all over Rivendell and Elrohir reached out to open them with flourish, ginning as he gestured Willow inside. The woman just shook her head at him, laughing at his antics, but obeyed. She halted, however, just passed the threshold and could do nothing but stare. One thought instantly echoed in her mind:

_Holy_ _shit_.

The room Willow found herself in wasn't what she expected to see. When was told that she was going to be given a room to stay in she thought she'd get something similar to the healing room she'd woken up in earlier but with her own bathroom. Instead Elrond had decided to give her her own damned apartment. It was bigger even than the two bedroom apartment she had to scrape under the couch cushions just to pay rent for.

Built into one wall was a stone fireplace already burning brightly and giving light to the room that actually had all four walls intact aside from a balcony partially hidden by a pair of thick green curtains. It overlooked the forest and river outside and her peak of the view from the doorway was astounding. In front of the fireplace were a few plush armchairs and a couch made of soft looking material. The bookshelves against the walls were empty, as well as the writing desk in the corner by a door that she assumed led to a bathroom. At the other end of the room next to the balcony was a small kitchenette with its own dining table and two chairs, all made from rich mahogany.

Another set of small doors were set into the wall on the opposite side of the fireplace to the far right side. They were propped open and through them she could see a bedroom with a king sized four poster bed adorned with sheer green curtains and a mountain of pillows. Light shone in from a window she couldn't see, but it made the room almost seem to glow. It was a suite fit for a queen, absolutely dust and clutter free.

Willow stared at the colourful rugs, polished wood and creeping vines along the walls in awe. "Wow," she breathed, completely flabbergasted. "All this… is for me?"

"Yes. Adar wanted to be sure you would be comfortable. Is it to your liking?" Elladan asked and when Willow took a few steps farther into the room, they followed and shut the doors behind them quietly.

Spinning sharply, Willow tossed the twins an incredulous look. "Are you kidding me? This is incredible! This is better than any five-star hotel I've ever seen in any magazine. Seriously, where's the pool and sauna?" She laughed and skipped over to the furniture to run her fingers over the cushions, hoping they were as soft as they looked. Good god, it was like cashmere beneath her fingertips. "I have more room here than I ever had _anywhere_ back home."

"We're glad you approve," Elrohir chuckled, sharing a fond smile with his brother. Although her words were probably lost on them, they recognized easily enough how happy the room made her. "This was our sister's room before she came of age and has since been renovated. Our father wanted you close in the event you ever required assistance."

"Wait, so this used to be a kid's room?" Willow asked and at their nod she gave a short guffaw and shook her head. What kid needed this much space? Nobility apparently, she had to reminded herself. Continuing her exploration, Willow left the twins and made her way to the bedroom, testing the bed's squish factor and checking if there was anything in the large wardrobe in the corner. She couldn't wear her Earth clothes forever after all. She hummed disinterestedly at the four clean, pretty dresses hung up inside and closed the doors, and made a mental note to ask for shirts and pants.

She went to the vanity next to inspect the assortment of combs, lotions and oils she saw sitting on the surface, talking through the still open doors to the twins as she did so. "So you guys have a sister; where is she?"

"Visiting our grandparents in Lothlórien, another elven city. She is meant to be returning within the next two months, you will be able to meet her then. I believe you will get along with Arwen quite nicely," Elrohir chuckled. Willow snorted and, her perusal of the bedroom complete, she returned to the main room.

"Well, if she's anything like you two knuckleheads, I can't wait to meet her." She sent them a playful wink then gestured to the room around them. "And _thank you_. Again. So much. You can't know how grateful I am to have found such nice people," she told them earnestly.

"There is no need to thank us, Lady Willow," Elladan said just as sincerely and bowed his head to her. "We could never refuse anyone help if they needed it. You are most welcome here for as long as you wish to be. Now, we should leave you to your rest. Tomorrow, if you are feeling better, we may start your lessons."

"Sounds great," she agreed then grinned and placed a hand on each of their shoulders when they turned to leave. "Wait, one last thing…"

When they were facing her again, the twin elves watched curiously as her gaze flitted back and forth between their faces, a crease of deep concentration forming on her brow. Reaching up, she gently took their chins in each hand and slowly guided them in seemingly random directions.

"What is it?" Elladan asked in a murmur while Elrohir could only grin.

"Trying to find the difference between you two so I can tell who the hell is who," Willow muttered distractedly in response, huffing a little chuckle. "Hah, that rhymed…" A moment later a slow smirk began to spread over her lips and she narrowed an eye at Elrohir. "Oh, you vain little shit." Elladan's nose was a incrementally wider and his hairline was farther back like their father's. And while Elladan had a more serious, strong jawline, Elrohir's was more angular which made him look just a little more boyish and younger than his counterpart. They were both handsome devils, there was no denying that, but Elrohir had a little bit more symmetry than his counterpart.

She began to laugh when the elf winked in response and he soon joined her, leaving Elladan to narrow his eyebrows in confusion. "What?" he asked, practically whining, but the two only laughed harder. When they calmed down, Elrohir ushered his brother from the room, imparting a farewell over his shoulder while Elladan continued to protest. Willow waved and let out a few more chuckles after the door was shut behind them.

Soon they petered out and she was left with silence. Looking over her new home one more time, she sighed. She couldn't believe everything that had happened in such a short amount of time. Was it really only four days ago that she'd found herself in this place with a canopy of leaves above her head? It felt longer than that. She'd been chased, scared shitless and had had several panic attacks within a twelve hour period. It was no wonder she was tired again so soon. Her body, not to mention her mind, must have still been recuperating from her earlier adventures and after the bombshell she received from Lord Elrond and Gandalf… Well, suffice to say she was exhausted.

Willow was about to head for the bedchamber when she remembered she had been barefoot since the river and looked down, frowning at her red and white blotchy feet and their blackened soles. They looked better now than they had before the rinse in the river, but they were still sore. She probably wouldn't have to wrap them again because there were no open wounds, but she was in desperate need of a new pair of shoes at the very least. Her winter boots were going straight to whatever trash dump the elves had available. She also wouldn't be opposed to burning the monstrous black clunkers to a molten crisp.

Compared to the main living area and bedchamber, the bathroom was small, but still had enough room in it to fit a porcelain bathtub and a table with a large metal basin on top. There wasn't any toilet that Willow could see—though she frowned at the hole in a bench along the wall to her left that she could only guess had to serve as one. Her nose wrinkled at the sight. She really hoped she wouldn't have to throw her business off the balcony or out a window like she'd seen on _Monty Python_.

Yech.

There was a metal jug sitting next to the empty basin and Willow was surprised to find it already filled with water—even if it was cold. Pouring it into the basin, she grabbed a small towel off the wall by the tub and began wiping the collected dirt and grime off her feet. When she was finished, she dumped the water into the tub and let it drain into whatever type of sewer system the elves apparently had.

Now clean, she made her way to her bedroom and closed the beautifully carved doors behind her. Checking the wardrobe again, Willow let a faint smile turn up her lips when she found a similar nightgown to the one she'd been wearing earlier folded in a cubby. She would have preferred to sleep nude like she used to, but she was still in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people and she didn't feel comfortable doing that just yet. Just in case someone walked in; like a maid or—she cringed at the thought—Lord Elrond himself. She could have slept in the clothes she was in now, but experience told her that sleeping in jeans was very uncomfortable.

Redressed and ready for a seriously needed nap, Willow mechanically closed the heavy curtains across her west facing window and promptly shuffled to the bed. The fluffy soft mattress and heavy duvet welcomed her as she collapsed on top of it belly first and she immediately groaned in delight, rolling to cocoon herself amidst the pillows. If she thought the bed in the healing ward was amazing, then this one was heavenly. No other mattress could ever compare.

It was a small comfort, given her situation, but she allowed it. If nothing else, at least she'd be able to sleep well—or lie in luxury as her head spun in circles like a merry-go-round. Even her whirlwind thoughts couldn't dissuade her body's need for rest, though, and as she stared at the high-vaulted ceiling, feeling her eyes droop more and more with each passing second, she thought that things probably could have been worse.

After all, a feather-stuffed mattress was infinitely better than a tree.

* * *

**Translations**:

**_Ghay'cha'_** : Klingon, meaning 'damn' (or other general expletives spoken in surprise/shock)

**Hey, everybody! Here's another one for ya! I know this one was a little slow, but I _did_ say this was going to be a slow-burn type story, it's only logical that a few chapters are gonna creep along. I want to thank everyone who's read and reviewed so far, but, as always, more is appreciated. I look forward to hearing your thoughts and hope you enjoyed the chapter :D**


	7. You've Got a Friend in Me

**VII**

**You've Got a Friend in Me**

Willow had been thrown for a loop yesterday; talking about alternate realities, dimensional shifting and magic and such with an elf and a wizard was just mind boggling. She didn't know what she expected when she woke up the next morning, but she certainly hadn't been counting on how awkward she would feel. Well, maybe not awkward, but definitely uncomfortable. Out of place.

It hadn't started off _so_ bad—good enough to lull her into a false sense of security and calm, that is. She'd risen to the sounds of birds chirping through her window as Verya, the maid from yesterday, was parting her curtains and letting the early morning sun shine across Willow's face. The two proceeded to exchange polite greetings and Willow hesitantly allowed the maid to help wash her still matted hair in the bathroom. The lithe elf then helped her prepare for breakfast—in a corset and gown—which Willow found _way_ less comfortable than she was lead to believe by Hollywood.

Honestly, how was she supposed to _breathe_ in this thing? Let alone eat? She felt like Elizabeth Swan in the first _Pirates_ movie. She couldn't take a full breath and her ribs felt like they were being crushed. She was most definitely _not_ as thin as the rest of the female elves around here, that was for sure. But, unfortunately, dressing up like this couldn't be avoided—especially with Verya leading the charge.

Apparently meals in Rivendell were mostly held in the company of others. As in _publicly._ While Willow was used to hunching over a styrofoam container full of leftover Chinese food at the edge of her bed as she watched TV, it would seem she might actually have to be social in this world and _go_ somewhere to eat. To be seen by other people. To talk to them. And she couldn't very well wear her Earth clothes every day, no matter how much she wanted to.

Willow sighed internally. _Goodbye, jeans. You will be missed._

But since she was a guest here, Willow decided she should do her best to suck it up; put on her big girl panties—or would it be bloomers?—and just go with it. For now, anyway. Whining about it wouldn't get her anywhere except making her look like a spoiled brat to these people. Besides, if breakfast ended up being too weird or uncomfortable then maybe she could ask Verya if there was a way to have food brought to her like before.

Or should she ask for pants first? Hmm, pants seemed like a higher priority at the moment. She'd be damned she'd have to spend every day in a skirt.

The elf maid managed to coax Willow into one of the velvety dresses hanging inside the closet and while it was pretty, it really wasn't the redhead's style. It was dark green with long, tight sleeves which, in her mind, kind of made her look like a christmas tree. Or a chubbier version of Merida. It tied up at the back—something that made Willow wonder just how in the _hell_ one was supposed to get into it on their own. It did kind of match her eyes, though, which were a nice shade of lush moss. The skirt surprisingly suited her leg length well and the hem swept around her feet, brushing the floor asw she walked. The elf maiden insisted that Willow also wear the slippers that were in the closet to complete the outfit, but after the duo had somehow gotten Willow's hair into a messy bun atop her head—by Verya's expression, Willow could tell she didn't like the style—the redhead had practically sprinted out the door before the elf could shove them on her feet.

There was no way she was going to suffer the crushing weight of a corset _and_ pinched toes just yet. One thing at a time was all she asked. Willow decided that if she had to deal with a bunch of perfect strangers and risk an internal spaz attack—not to mention a crushed rib—she at least wanted to be as comfortable as she was able to make herself be. Besides, it's not like she hadn't traipsed around Rivendell barefoot before. So, she ran from the maid, cackling at the look of utter bafflement that had taken over her lovely pale features.

Just like with Elladan and Elrohir, Willow was starting to feel a sense of ease around Verya she wouldn't have expected to so soon around a veritable stranger. Willow wasn't shy by any means, but she was cautious. She wasn't comfortable opening up to people which was why she didn't have a lot of close friends. With the twins, their father and Verya, however, she experienced a strange sense of warmth and safety. Whether it was because they'd all been directly involved in saving her life, gave her room and board, or simply because of the magic Elrond had supposedly used to heal her wounds, Willow wasn't sure.

But for once she didn't want to question it. If she was going to be homesick and confused as to what she was going to do about the unexpected turn her life had taken, she was glad she at least had people around that made her feel safer. Less terrified. Calmer.

The woman and elf chatted all the way to the dining hall. Willow had questions about elves and Verya would timidly ask about her world and their customs. Neither of them really understood much about what the other was saying—_like, what the hell was a Valar?_—but they enjoyed each other's company nonetheless. The walk was short and thankfully downstairs, not up, and when they arrived there were already dozens of elves gathered at several long tables spread throughout the large room.

The dining hall was… Well, it was just gorgeous. It was on the main outer level of the city by the looks of it because it was another one of those rooms that had barely any walls. Trees, vines and flowers made up the natural decor, casting long shadows and dancing lights in the morning breeze filled with the aroma of flowers opening themselves to a new day. Birds chirped gaily in the distance and there were even a few that would occasionally swoop through the hall. It was a very ethereal sight. Like walking into a fairytale.

Still, as marvellous as it was, Willow still found herself hoping that those birdies didn't decide the tables full of food were a good spot to leave their droppings. She shuddered at the thought, nose crinkling a little in disgust.

Verya led her to the main table while she was busy ogling and didn't realize her eyes were starting to burn until she bumped and fell dazedly into a chair. She blinked a few times and blushed at the several pairs of beautiful eyes watching her in amusement. She averted her gaze to her empty plate, suddenly wishing she was back in her room. While it would have sucked to still have blistered feet oozing puss and other such grossness, at least she'd be able to eat in peace. Elrond—bless his heart—took note of her discomfort and immediately commenced breakfast with a few short words and a wave of his hands.

The first few minutes were silent, allowing Willow to scoop a few heavenly spoonfuls of what looked like ambrosia into her mouth. Again, there was no meat and she had to wonder if elves were vegetarians. Given their obvious connection with nature, she assumed that they had to be. She felt a little disheartened at the thought, but it was just another thing she'd have to get used to if she was going to stay here. She was a guest and had no good reason to complain. She couldn't very well hold up her modern standards against a quite obviously medieval time.

"Miss Willow?" Her head snapped up at the sound of Elrond's voice. He sat at the head of the table and she had to lean forward a little to see him passed Gandalf's grey head and another elf. "I hope you rested peacefully?"

Smiling demurely at the elf lord, she nodded. "I did, thank you. Your daughter's old room was very comfortable."

"I am glad to hear it," Elrond said, eyes crinkling a light smile in return. It was a gesture that had her previously tensed shoulders relaxing a little. He then motioned towards a pair of elves on the far side of his twin sons who sat opposite to her and Gandalf. "I would like to introduce to you Lindir and Erestor, two of my advisors." The two brunette elves in question nodded politely. The one closest to Elrohir smiled brightly at her, but the other only looked at her long enough to bow his head in greeting before returning to his meal.

"Lindir has expressed much interest in where you come from," Elrond continued. The excited looking elf practically laid himself over the table when Lord Elrond finished speaking and Willow was sure that if an obstacle hadn't been in his way, Lindir would have been nose to nose with her.

"Is it true you are from another realm?" he asked in an enthusiastic hiss, hazel eyes alight with fascination and trained on her. He was giving her his undivided attention and his unwavering stare made a bubble of anxiety come to life in her chest. Stunned, Willow glanced pleadingly from the over eager elf to the others she was already acquainted with, unsure of how to respond. Most of them just smiled and a few tried to hide a quiet snicker by ducking their heads or taking another bite of breakfast.

Turning back to Lindir, Willow slowly replied, "Uhh… I guess? I mean, that's what we figure anyway…"

"Fascinating!" The elf's outburst startled several others, but none more than Willow. She jumped a little, nearly hitting her knee on the underside of the table. Lindir didn't seem to notice. "And do you have music there?"

"Well… Yeah."

"Instruments? Or vocals?"

"Both. We even use things that _aren't_ musical instruments to make music." Willow snorted softly. Could auto-tune even be considered music?

"That is remarkable," the elf murmured, cheeks flushed pink. His breakfast, made almost entirely of leafy greens, sat forgotten in front of him. By now the room had become much quieter and with every passing second another set of eyes fell upon her. Willow's anxiety grew and she felt fairly flushed herself. She would bet her left foot that her face was twice as red as Lindir's at the moment. With all the attention that was on her right now she felt almost too nauseous to eat and so she poked halfheartedly at her plate full of fruits and a buttery croissant-like pastry. Even as her stomach growled in protest, Willow couldn't bring herself to take another bite.

Not that Lindir seemed particularly inclined to allow her to, anyway.

"Do you play any of these instruments, My Lady? Sing, perhaps? I would very much like to—"

"Lindir, my dear friend! Let the girl eat!" Again, Willow jumped when Gandalf's booming laughter beside her suddenly interrupted the elf. The wizard had bits of broccoli stuck to his long beard and tracks from whatever drink he had in his goblet on his robes. He seemed unfazed about his messy appearance as he grinned jovially at the two of them. "Let her breathe, at the very least. There will be plenty of time to ask your questions later, I'm sure."

Another deep blush rose on the apples of Lindir's cheeks and he bowed his head, offering a quiet apology before silently returning to his meal. Willow sent a grateful smile to Gandalf who winked in return. He turned away, shovelling another forkful of food through his beard. Feeling the majority of the stares being averted, Willow found the strength for a few nibbles of her croissant, but her attention was soon caught by Elrohir who she found was watching her intently.

She frowned at him. "What?"

A grin slowly spread across his face. "The dress looks well on you."

Despite her resolve, Willow felt her face flush once more. "Thanks," she coughed, avoiding his stare as his smile grew. "Verya said I couldn't go to breakfast wearing the same thing I did yesterday. She said showing my arms was inappropriate too." Willow turned her head to shoot the pretty maid a frown.

"Yes, well, aside from being indecent, your… _artwork_ is rather scandalous in some areas. I thought it prudent to save you the trouble of further scrutiny," Verya replied, somewhat clipped. She might have been shy and sweet, but it was obvious she took her job seriously—propriety too, so it would seem. Willow glanced down at her hands where some of her ink could still be seen and surreptitiously moved her left hand to her lap.

What Verya alluded to was Willow's tattoos, of which some, admittedly, were pretty racy even for back home. She was honestly surprised no one had commented on the one she'd just hidden from view. Even on Earth she was often asked if she needed medical assistance or help getting to a hospital. Not that she couldn't really blame them.

On the back of her left hand was a rather grotesque, and scarily accurate, depiction of her skin having been torn open as if by a clawed beast. It revealed the bones, muscles, tendons, ligaments and all the ooey-gooey blood beneath. It was all fake, of course, but a quick glance had fooled many people into believing she'd been mauled. On Earth it had been a constant point of amusement for her, but here… Well, let's just say that given how she had come to be in their company, she wouldn't be surprised if someone carted her back off to the healing ward to try and sew the imaginary injury back up. In fact, Verya had tried. It was only after Willow had made her feel it to prove it wasn't real that the elf had relented and her panic ceased.

_Hm… maybe I should think about getting some fingerless gloves or something…_

In contrast to the left, her right hand was quite tame. There were a few smoky tendrils on her wrist from another tattoo that spanned her forearm, but otherwise her hand was bare save for a simple Celtic ring around her middle finger. That, she decided, was safe to leave uncovered. As for the rest, of which were spread across her arms, back and legs, they were safely hidden by her dress. As annoying as it was to have to cover them up, something Willow was pretty sure she'd have to get used to fast, she did understand it. From what she remembered of medieval times from high school history class, it was usually thieves, bandits and sailors that were tattooed. She couldn't even begin to imagine the looks she'd get if she decided to reveal them full monty to her hosts.

So, she sent Verya a grateful smile when the elf looked up at her and said, "thank you. I guess I didn't stop to think that they might be taken offensively."

The pretty maid's gaze lost their severity and she returned Willow's smile with a gentle one of her own. "You are most welcome. There are just some differences between our worlds that will take time getting used too. Although… I am still rather incensed that you did not wear the slippers I offered. It isn't proper for a lady to traipse around barefoot."

Willow snorted and was about to point out, for what felt like the dozenth time, that she was the farthest thing from a 'lady' when Elladan cut in.

"Artwork?" he asked, his confused expression mirroring that of his twin beside him. "What artwork? You carried no such things with you when we found you, Willow."

"Yes," agreed Elrohir. "And definitely none that could be considered scandalous."

Willow and Verya shared another glance before they burst into giggles. When she calmed down, Willow set down her fork and explained. "She means my tattoos." When they just blinked back at her, she sighed and showed them her right hand and the black ink it bore. "This is a tattoo," she said, pointing to it with her thumb to avoid bringing out her other hand, "I have several drawings like this all over my—well… everywhere." She caught herself before she said 'body', aware that saying something like that might cause them to shortwire their properly modest sensibilities. Women talking about their bodies so openly probably wasn't commonplace.

The twins stared at the ink for several moments then slowly returned to their meals. "I had thought that was a simple ring," Elladan muttered. Beside him, Elrohir nodded. "From a lover or husband, perhaps."

Willow stifled another snort of amusement. Right. Like _she_ was married. "Well, it is a ring—just a permanent one. And I don't have a husband. Even if I was married the ring would be on my left hand, not my right."

She could tell she'd piqued their curiosity, but she waved them off with a shake of her head. _That_ wasn't something she wanted to get into right now. The fact that she was unwed wasn't weird on Earth, but here, being twenty-four and still single, not widowed and without children, she'd probably seem like a crazy old spinster. She didn't want to have to explain that where she came from women weren't expected to get married and push out babies the second their lady bits started gushing blood.

There was infrequent chatter after that. Everyone was aware to keep their prying to a minimum of which Willow was grateful. Apparently, no one wanted another outburst from the wizard who's booming voice could wake even the dead. When breakfast was over many of the elves got up and left, but the twins and Verya stayed back to wait for Willow as she finished off her goblet of orange juice.

She stood and was about to join the three elves in leaving when a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Turning, she found Gandalf behind her and beyond him a blonde elf—the first she'd seen so far—who she recognized to be the one that had sat at Elrond's left hand, next to the wizard. He hadn't said a word throughout breakfast, so she'd forgotten he was even there. He hadn't attempted to look at her either, that she knew of, but now his impossibly sharp, teal gaze seemed hard-pressed to wander anywhere else. Like what happened with Lindir, Willow was somewhat unnerved by the intense expression on his flawless features, only it was slightly different because while Lindir had been overly friendly, this guy seemed more closed off, almost cold. She didn't get the impression that he was being purposely rude though. More like he was scrutinizing her. Curiosity hung at the edges of his gaze. He wasn't frowning, but he wasn't necessarily smiling either.

Willow furrowed her brows in confusion, but quickly brought her attention back to Gandalf when he spoke. His bright blue eyes were alight with amusement and warmth and they served to soothe away any feelings of trepidation she had concerning this elf.

"Miss Willow, I beg your pardon, but there is someone I would very much like you to meet. This is Lord Glorfindel." The wizard swivelled to the side to gesture to the elf though it wasn't really needed as it was just them, the twins and Verya in the room. The others had left almost as soon as Elrond had finished his own meal. Glorfindel appeared young like all the others, but, like Elrond, his eyes held an age the smooth planes of his face defied. His expression didn't change as he offered her a bow and, awkwardly, Willow attempted to return it with a sloppy curtsey. She might have fallen flat on her face had it not been for Gandalf's hand hovering nearby.

When the elf spoke it was like hearing running water down a smooth creek bed and the distant rumble of thunder. "I expressed my desire to make your acquaintance to Míthrandir last eve, but could not introduce myself until now. I am sorry if I am keeping you, however, I would very much enjoy the pleasure of your company on a short walk. I would have words with you."

Willow, a little stunned and not really sure how to respond verbally, simply gave a dumb nod. Gandalf smiled and patted her shoulder, happy with the exchange. He turned away to lead her friends away as Glorfindel, who was one gorgeous creature if she'd ever seen one, offered his arm to her. After a moment of awkward hesitation, Willow took it and hoped she tucked her fingers into the right spot on his elbow as they began walking. Glorfindel didn't correct her, but he also didn't say anything else as they exited the hall into the gardens through one of the numerous vine-draped arches.

It was only when they were on a secluded path that he finally broke his silence. "Lord Elrond has informed me of your predicament in as much detail as he is able at this point." Willow again nodded silently. "I must say that when he told me that a young woman with hair like fire and a spirit to match fell from another world, I did not believe him. It was only when I saw you with the Lord's sons yesterday that I considered it to be true. After this morning's meal, I am now convinced."

At that, Willow's brow raised and she chanced a glance up at the tall fair-haired elf. "You saw us yesterday?" Although she thought it was kind of creepy that he'd been watching them—her—Willow supposed they passed by a a lot of elves during their little walk and it wasn't like she blended in or tried to hide. It's not like they'd tried to be quiet either so she shouldn't be surprised they might have caught quite a few stares. There weren't many blonde elves in Rivendell, not that she had seen anyway, but she'd been so distracted that they very well could have crossed paths with the lord without her noticing. She uttered a quiet hum of acceptance and returned her attention to the elf beside her.

"What exactly was it that made you change your mind? Before this morning, that is."

The handsome lord's lips twitched into tiny smirk. "Your manner." He chuckled at the insulted frown that must have crossed her face. "Do not take offence. I merely meant that your wardrobe was rather… surprising. And the way that you spoke, what little I heard of it, was unique. You must understand that I am quite old and have heard many tongues spoken in many accents throughout this world, but yours is nothing I can recognize."

"So, in short… my weird accent made you want to talk to me?"

He chuckled again. Willow tried not to be incensed at how it sounded a lot like he was chortling at an unruly child. "No, it was the proof I needed to at least take Elrond and Gandalf's claims into consideration. I had wished to speak to you in order to make my own conclusions. Now, however, I hold no doubts. You are most definitely not of this land, nor any of it's neighbours. I find myself intrigued."

Willow, despite how nice he was being couldn't help but roll her eyes with a bit of exasperation. "You and everyone else," she sighed. "Don't get me wrong, I can understand all y'all's curiosity. I'm pretty confuddled about this whole thing myself, but getting hammered with questions on my second official day here is starting to get on my nerves a bit."

"I understand," the blonde nodded. He steered them around a bend when the path diverged into three separate paths. Instead of heading towards the waterfall he took them deeper into the gardens. "But it may please you to know that it is not questions that I have for you this day. I wish to offer you my assistance."

Willow blinked.

"Your… assistance?"

"Yes. Has either Lord Elrond or Míthrandir mentioned my name before our meeting?" he asked.

Willow shook her head and shrugged. "Who's Mithrandeer?"

"Gandalf the Grey," he replied with a small grin. "We elves call him Míthrandir and I suppose if my lord and the wizard did not inform you of who I am then what I am about to say may come as a shock." Willow raised one red brow as if to say 'wanna bet?' and the elf chuckled wryly. "I suppose you could say we have something in common."

"What? You came from another planet too?" she snorted.

He gave a minute shake of his head, pale golden hair fluttering about his regal shoulders. "Hardly, but something similar." He paused for a while and after several long seconds Willow wanted to shake his arm to get him to spit it out. His words had piqued her interest, but it seemed he too had the annoying habit of dramatically pausing right before the good stuff. She refrained from waving him around like a baby's rattle only because she noticed that all previous humour fell from his features, leaving it almost as hard as stone. His eyes were pensive and clouded, the teal darkening to something akin to the foaming surface of an unruly sea storm. Glorfindel almost seemed to zone out as he stared ahead of them. Even his pace slowed a bit and he frowned as if seeing something she couldn't.

Just when Willow's lips parted to say something to shake him out of his reverie, Glorfindel shook his head, his eyes focused and he offered her a small smile. Ignoring the confused and concerned look she was giving him, he turned his gaze ahead of them again and continued.

"I died. Many years ago during the First Age of Middle Earth," he explained in a soft tone. In her shock, Willow stumbled over a slightly raised stone in the path when she neglected to lift her foot high enough, but she caught herself from faceplanting the ground by the help of her sturdy grip on his arm. Glorfindel either pretended to not notice her slip, or just didn't care to comment on it, for which she was grateful. She stared up at him to see if his expression held any indication that he might be pulling her leg, but he stared dead-ahead at their path and gave nothing away. He was dead serious. "I was slain in battle defending my home of Gondolin from Melkor's armies. The betrayer sent a balrog, a demon made of fire and taller than any castle to kill those who were trying to escape and I stayed to fight it off, providing a distraction for the beast and giving those few who had survived to that point time to flee. The Balrog is a formidable foe and we fought for what felt like an age. It was only when I managed to pierce its belly did it finally fall. Its final act was to take me with it over the edge of a mountain by my hair."

Willow was silent. She didn't know what all the names he'd said meant, but she got the gist of it. He had been pretty obviously killed in battle. She wanted to ask, her curiosity almost getting the best of her, but Glorfindel went on before she could.

"I was dead, but so was that foul creature and I was happy to pass on for I had done my duty. However, it was not the end. The Valar saw fit to return me to Middle Earth and here I stand as their emissary with another duty that is needed to be fulfilled."

When the elf said nothing more after a while, Willow let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Wow," she whispered with lack of anything better to say. "That's just… Wow. You actually died." The elf nodded solemnly. "Jesus, that's intense. When did this all happen? I know you said the First Age, but how long ago was that, exactly?"

The blonde elf lord's lips twitched into a knowing smile that he tried to hide by turning his face away, but Willow saw it anyway and it made her frown. As did his next question.

"Tell me, Miss Willow. In this world that you come from, are there elves?"

"No, just humans like me. And animals."

"Hm. So then it is safe to assume you know nothing about us."

"Not necessarily," the woman shrugged. As they passed a bush Willow ran her free hand over the petals of the flowers that bloomed on it and almost immediately felt at peace. Just being close to nature like this was beginning to have a strangely calming effect on her. If this is what it meant to become a hippie, then she was all for it. "Where I come from elves are fictional creatures. They're in fairytales and games and movies, but there are a lot of different kinds."

"How intriguing. I would like to inquire about this farther, but perhaps another day," he said, actually sounding genuinely interested. Willow almost laughed. An elf wanting to talk to her about fictional elves was just… odd. "Then it may not surprise you to learn that elves are immortal; at least by men's standards."

That wasn't really a surprise, no. A lot of fictional elves were immortal or, at least, very long lived. "So, how old are you then? If you don't mind me asking."

"I was well into my thousands by the time I was killed and was re-embodied a thousand years after, within the Second Age. It has been several thousand years since then as we are now in the Third Age."

"Holy fuck!"

The words came out before Willow could stop them and she immediately clapped a hand over her mouth with a muffled apology. Her outburst didn't seem to bother Glorfindel. He smiled, but he seemed a little confused too. Willow felt a hot blush invading her cheeks and quickly averted her gaze.

"_Ahem_, sorry," she muttered, feeling the incredible urge to smack herself in the face. "What I meant to say was 'wow, that was a long time ago.'"

"It was indeed," the elf chuckled, guiding her around another corner. Willow, who hadn't really been paying attention to where they were going, now realized that he had taken them in a loop. She could see the familiar trees that served as the dining hall's entrance coming up ahead of them.

"So, uh, why did you want to tell me this? Not that I don't appreciate it," she hastily moved to add when she thought she sounded a bit like an ungrateful brat. "I'm honoured that you'd share this with me… I'm just kinfs wondering why?"

The elf lord stopped walking and turned to face her. To Willow's surprise, Glorfindel took her hands gently in his own and stared at her right in the eye. It made her feel uncomfortably exposed, but she was unable to look away from the intense look on his face.

"Our situations differ greatly, there can be no denying that," he began. "But when I was reborn, more than a thousand years after my death, I felt as if I had been thrust into another world just as you have been." The sincerity in his tone, the quiet sadness in his gaze and the gentle yet sturdy way he held her made her throat tighten with emotion.

Unable to speak passed the lump in her throat that refused to go down, Willow nodded for him to continue. When she blinked, her vision blurred slightly.

_Damnit, keep it together,_ Willa!

"There is much different between us, yes, and unlike myself you have no old friends to turn to for comfort. I wanted to let you know that if you are struggling at all, I will be here. As one who has been thrust from one life into another, I hope I can offer you some council if ever need be."

To her embarrassment, one tear did manage to escape. It sailed down her cheek, splashing on the front of her dress and she hastily pried one of her hands from his to wipe away the track it made. With eye contact broken, Willow suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "Thank you, Lord Glorfindel." Her voice cracked with emotion, but she didn't really care. She felt truly grateful that someone who kind of had an idea of what she was going through was there with her. Unfortunately, she also happened to blubber like a baby in front of him the first they met. Way to go, Willow.

"I am happy to help." The blonde smiled as Willow finished wiping the moisture from her eyes, cursing her glasses for getting in the way under her breath. When her vision was no longer blurred she cleared her throat and tried to regain some of her composure.

"I'm sure I'll come find you for a talk or something someday soon," she chuckled, an attempt to be light hearted. She half succeeded. "Right now I'm still kind of… _numb_ to it all. I'm just trying to enjoy it while it lasts before I freak out again, ya' know?"

"I'm not entirely clear on what you mean, but whatever the case I pray our next meeting is not so grim in nature. Rivendell is a beautiful city, let it put your spirit at ease." Glorfindel then glanced over her shoulder with a fond quirk of his lips. "And as I have kept you long enough, I shall return you to your friends. _Namarie_, Miss Willow." With those parting words and a slight bow Glorfindel left her on the path, gliding silently back the way they'd come. Willow watched as he disappeared behind a cluster of trees.

In moments she felt another presence coming up alongside her and turned to find one of the twins—she squinted a little; ah, it was Elladan—beside her. He smiled when he realized he had her attention, but it fell when he no doubt caught sight of her red puffy eyes and nose—curse them for making her so transparent. Willow sniffled and diverted her gaze, trying, and failing, to discreetly hide it.

"Are you alright?" Elladan asked gently.

Shaking her head, Willow brushed off his concern with a wave of her hand. "I'm fine. Glorfindel just told me a story that kinda hit a little closer to home than I would have liked," she explained with a tired sigh. Looking back at the brunette she offered a small smile. "Really, I'm okay."

"If you insist." The elf didn't sound like he was convinced, but they didn't know each other well enough yet for him to pry and Willow was glad for that.

To be honest, she wasn't sure what it was exactly about the blonde lord's story that pulled at her heartstrings so. Was it because he'd died a hero and was given a second chance? Or was it because she could empathize with how he must have been feeling when he came back? Lost, confused, afraid… As much as she was beginning to fall in love with Rivendell, a good chunk of her felt like she didn't belong. The only difference was, as he'd said, she was alone while he'd had friends to help him cope. His offer to be that friend for her made her feel like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Now all she had to do was build up the courage to actually take him up on it.

Everyone so far had been great; they were kind, generous, helpful… But none of them really knew just what she was going through. Neither did Glorfindel really, but at least he could relate better than the others would be able to. Besides, it wasn't like she died, right? Right. He had it _way_ worse than her. If she died and came back a thousand years later, she'd be a wreck—more than she already was. She at least had the possibility of returning to where she belonged someday.

"I _do _insist. I'm fine. I'm good. We should start these lessons of yours before I get sleepy again," she quipped, shooing the elf down the path where she could see Elrohir and Verya waiting for them. Seeming to forget her poor mood, or smoothly setting it aside, Elladan's grin was all teeth as he took her arm and pulled her down the path with him, reminding Willow of an overexcited five year-old.

"Then let us not waste any more time! We have much to show you!"

Willow let herself be dragged around for the rest of the day and despite her expectations, she found her mood greatly improving. The twins' good humour was contagious and soon Willow found herself running barefoot through the gardens with them like wood nymphs on LSD, laughing like morons. After the initial tour around the city had been completed, Elladan and Elrohir ended up getting into an argument on who knew Imladris better and it had resulted in Elrohir demanding a race. Somehow, the girls got roped in and so Willow was teamed up with Elrohir to beat Elladan and Verya in a sprint around the city.

Due to Willow's sad, human form her team, unsurprisingly lost, but there were no hard feelings. The four of them just laughed, the redheaded woman's being the only one that had been wheezed breathlessly, and carried on.

By the end of the day—and quite a few lost races later—when dusk had arrived, Willow finally was able to collapse into bed, totally disregarding dinner. The sons of Elrond were abundant with energy and it had taken every ounce she had to keep up with them, but she was glad for the distraction. After Glorfindel had left her, the rest of the day was a nice blur of fun and laughter; where she didn't have to think and could just let go, living in the moment. She could forget all her problems and the dark cloud hanging over her head for just a little while. She made herself believe that she was on vacation instead of being stranded. Willow only hoped tomorrow would bring much of the same happiness.

* * *

**Translations:**

**_Namarie _**_: _Elvish, meaning 'farewell'.

* * *

_**Wow, I did not realize how long it had been since my last update. Well, here's the next one for ya! Hope you liked it. Please R&R if you can, let me know whatchya think =D**_


	8. Let the Lesson(s) Begin

**VIII**

**Let the Lesson(s) Begin**

"_Ohanna layhee._"

"No. Listen to me closely, Willow. _Hannon le_._"_

_"__Hannalay."_

_"__Hannon le."_

_"__Hoola lehay."_

_"_Now you are just purposely testing my patience. **_Hannon_**_. _**_Le_**_. Hannon le!"_

_"… __Hoombo lay._"

Gandalf's eye twitched, his usual calm, kind cornflower blue gaze darkening in a clear sign his lid was about to pop. "_Willow_!"

It took all of her willpower not to laugh. She even went as far as to bite her tongue until she tasted blood. But what little skin that was visible on Gandalf's face was turning a peculiar shade of reddish purple so with only a small amount of shame, Willow finally gave in.

Dipping her head slightly and appearing the perfect picture of a student thoroughly chastised, she mumbled,_ "Hannon le._"

"Yes. Excellent," Gandalf said in a slow exhale, bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. She could practically _hear_ him praying to the Valar for patience. Willow hid another imp-like grin. Then the wizard took one last centring breath, gave her a withering glance and promptly continued on with the lesson.

"That means 'thank you'. Now, try this; _Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn._"

Willow's jaw dropped. If this was _Bugs Bunny_ her chin would be touching the floor. "Oh, come on!"

"_Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn," _the wizard repeated forcefully and stone-faced. Nope, he wasn't joking.

Willow reluctantly did as she was told, but not before grumbling a few Klingon insults under her breath. Still, she couldn't deny that she only had herself to blame for Gandalf's bad mood and his subsequent retaliation. _Note to self; don't piss off Santa Claus_. Willow hissed out long sigh, sat forward, narrowed her brows and concentrated. "Jesus; okay. You're going to have to say that a bit slower, dude."

It was on a bright and sunny late afternoon that found the woman sitting across from the grey wizard in one of the many private studies Elrond had spread throughout his homely house. A few days after the twins' tour of Imladris and her chat with Glorfindel, Gandalf had taken it upon himself to begin teaching her Elvish—whether or not she wanted to. Luckily, Willow had already been psyching herself up for when the topic would be brought up and thought it was a great idea. With three other languages already under her belt, she thought she might as well add another. So far, to the best of her knowledge, she was doing well; especially considering she'd just started three days ago. Gandalf had claimed this study as his own and was often found sitting in the armchair by the fire smoking his pipe. It was where Willow always went to find the wizard for her lessons.

There was a piece of parchment with a quill and inkwell on the coffee table that Gandalf had given her upon request at the beginning of today's lesson. The items now lay forgotten in slight disarray, blotches of black ink staining the paper as well as the golden oak table and dainty centrepiece doily.

Needless to say Willow's first attempt at using a quill hadn't gone very well.

So far they'd being doing her lessons in a strange way; Gandalf would say a word or phrase in Elvish and Willow would repeat it until she got the pronunciation right. Then he would explain its meaning before moving on. Of course, that was when they were still on numbers and letters and days of the week. She'd wanted to use the paper to write down the phonetics in a way that she could remember when he started giving her sentences, but in the end she'd almost thrown the sad excuse for a pen and the pot of ink off the balcony. She was determined to master it someday, but today was not going to be that day. Or any day soon.

But back to the point. It was a confusing way to learn a language, purely speaking it and not writing it, but Willow didn't really mind. According to Gandalf, not many elves spoke the common tongue. Westron, as it was formally known, was what they called Willow's English. If she wanted to talk to more than just a handful of elves and men who were thousands of miles away for the rest of her life, she would have to learn the lingo.

As excited as she was to learn Elvish though, she had to admit that the thought exhausted her mentally. With so many in her head, pretty soon she wouldn't know one language apart from the other.

She felt like a kid being sent off to college in a foreign country without a translation app on her phone. Learning the local language was the only way she was going to be able to ask someone where the facilities were or to buy anything at the market—once she was able to earn money for herself, of course, which _also_ required her to learn Elvish. It was going to be daunting, but necessary.

Luckily for her she was actually _good_ at this sort of thing and enjoyed it immensely.

Besides, she just loved the _sound_ of Elvish. Every time she heard it, it was like having angels singing in her ears. And when she spoke it, it was like tasting magic itself. It was oddly addictive. She couldn't _not_ learn it, not when it was around her every day. Honestly, if Gandalf hadn't offered she probably would have eventually asked one of the twins to be her tutor, but the wizard beat her to it.

At the beginning it had been a little…weird. Willow, while not exactly shy, did not like too much direct attention. She liked being the girl in the shadows who did her own thing, but having Gandalf's attention felt like having a stage like constantly shining on you for the world to see, all your secrets laid bare. It creeped her out, but at the same time she felt safe and comforted in his presence. It took her a while, but eventually she was able to ignore her jitters and they got along famously.

For the most part, anyway. Both of them could be very stubborn and Willow had the tendency to be a bit of a brat. They'd butted heads more than once and mostly it was just because Willow got a kick out of bugging him; pushing his buttons, so to speak. He was a good sport about it for the most part and usually only got mildly annoyed at her, but once in a while she would take it too far and he'd have to set her straight again.

Gandalf was like the grumpy old grandpa she never had and she was loving every second of it.

"_Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn_," he repeated. To Willow's relief he'd said it slower as she requested.

"_Êl síla… erin... lû e-gov_—_uh… e-govaned 'wîn_," Willow sounded back, pausing and stuttering a little when she couldn't get her mouth to work the way she wanted it to. She accomplished her goal in the end and, at a nod from Gandalf, repeated it for him again more fluidly. She did it several more times with only a bit more help from Gandalf for pronunciation until finally he grinned and clasped his hands together in delight.

"Wonderful, my dear. Simply wonderful. I knew you had the tongue for Elvish," he chuckled. "But it would improve much quicker, I'd wager, if only you'd concentrate." He ignored the retaliating glare and stuck-out tongue Willow sent him with practiced ease, busying himself by pulling out his pipe to clean out the bowl in preparation for another smoke.

Not for the first time, Willow eyed the wooden object curiously. What exactly did he put in there anyway? Because it sure as hell didn't smell like tobacco. It didn't smell like pot either, though. Well... maybe it did just a little. _Hmm... Maybe it's a mix of the two_? Willow almost giggled at the thought. _No wonder he's so goofy and happy all the time. My wizard bestie is a stoner_!

This magical world was awesome.

"That means 'the stars shine upon the hour of our meeting'. It is a formal phrase usually used during diplomatic meetings. Or you could simply say '_mae govannen'; _'well met'." Gandalf's voice startled her from thoughts of debating whether or not to ask him to be her new dealer and she blinked dumbly for a moment until her brain registered what he'd said. She repeated the phrase a few times in her head before trying it out.

"_Mae govannen._" Gandalf nodded at her correct pronunciation, giving her another proud smile as one of his fingers sprouted a flame which he used to light his pipe. Willow gave a huff of a laugh as she ran a hand through her hair and slouched back in her seat. "I think I'll stick with that second one until I'm able to move on to longer sentences. As beautiful as Elvish is, it's hella complicated." She shook her head and snorted another chuckle, but it was cut short with a wince of discomfort.

The intense migraine that she'd first experienced in Elrond's study had become a constant companion at the back of her head, though it was usually dulled. However, as it occasionally tended to do, it now began to flare up and Willow fought to keep a pain-filled hiss from passing her lips. Damn. She had hoped she'd make it through today without incident. She hadn't had one since the afternoon before and had been nearing the twenty-four hour mark before this came on—a mere hour or two short of her goal. _So close_.

At least once a day that flash headache came back to bite Willow in the ass. She hadn't mentioned its frequency to either Gandalf or Elrond, not wanting to bother them with something so trivial. It was probably just the long-term aftereffects of the concussion she'd suffered; no big deal for humans, it would pass soon.

Still, she suspected the old wizard knew without her having to say anything—considering how many hours they spent together every day, she wouldn't be surprised. On the first day of their lessons she'd had an episode so bad she'd nearly started crying. Gandalf had easily taken notice and badgered her with concerned question, watching her every move as if she were a fragile china doll. It had taken a lot of convincing, but eventually Willow talked him out of sending for Elrond to look her over and when the battle drums in her head had eventually passed, Willow brushed off his mother-henning with a smile. She assured him she was fine, which she was once it was gone, but she could see the doubt in the look he'd given her. Since then she'd had several more migraines around him, but she always managed to hide it. Either that or he noticed and just didn't bring it up. A fact she was thankful for.

It was _hard_ to hide. The nausea, the hot flashes, the way it seemed to spread through the rest of her body and made her want to curl up on the floor and die sobbing. It was a miracle she was able to cover it up at all. Her one saving grace was that they were usually in short bursts.

She could only hope Gandalf wouldn't narc on her and rat her out to Elrond. Two days after her romp through the gardens with the twins the elf had nearly sent her back to bedrest when she had another fit. They'd been walking down the hall together and it had come on so suddenly that she'd lost her balance and nearly toppled down a flight of stairs. Thankfully Elrond was there to catch her and after convincing him that she didn't need to go back to the healing ward she'd been confined to bedrest for the remainder of the day. She'd then been forced to promise that if they got worse she would come to him.

And, no, she didn't lie. She wouldn't dare do that to the man—er, elf—who had taken her in. In all honesty, the migraines haven't gotten worse.

Although... they weren't exactly getting better either.

... But that's besides the point!

Willow had decided that her problems were hers and hers alone—that included her pain. Unless her life was in danger, there wasn't any point in seeking help. Whatever was bothering her from now on, Willow was going to keep it to herself—despite Glorfindel's kind offer. She'd already been enough of a burden to these people and she stubbornly refused to add to the list of things she owed them. It was already bad enough they had to house and feed her—for _free—_but they also took it upon themselves to teach her things like she was a squalling toddler. Her pride could only suffer so much and, being so used to her independence, she cringed at the thought of asking for even _more_ help—regardless of their continuous offers.

There were no other humans around. Just elves. Sometimes they would stare at her subtly when she'd pass by or watch her outright like she was a circus freak; whispering to each other and making her feel very much like the outsider she was. She did her best to ignore them. From what she understood, none of the races of Middle Earth interacted very much. Elves found men to be—how had Elladan put it?—weak of mind and power hungry; petty even. The twins said that with the exception of someone they called Estel, they found most men to be arrogant, selfish and fearful to the point of self-destruction.

When she asked about how they felt about dwarves, having heard them mentioned in passing, she just got a round of scoffing, shrugs about hobbits and, unsurprisingly, disgust and confusion about orcs. There was some serious racial segregation goin' on up in his planet. And Racism? A _major_ epidemic. Willow had yet to see _one_ person who was not blindingly pale—unless you counted her almost-murderers the orcs, but that was a twisted philosophical dilemma she did _not_ want to dwell on. It caused an uncomfortable twisting in her stomach.

Willow sometimes liked to get lost in thought as a way to distract herself from the throbbing in her skull, but that last thought had her coming back to the present. Perfect timing too, because Gandalf was saying something and he didn't take kindly to being ignored. So she mustered all her strength to push that pain to the side and returned her attention to the wizard.

"Your skill with languages intrigues me, Willow," he mused as he set his pipe to the side for a moment to pour them both a cup of tea. When he held one out to her Willow accepted it with a quiet '_hannon le' _and took a small sip. She almost moaned in relief when the hot liquid dulled her head-pounding a bit. "You have a sharp mind and tongue and are learning much faster than I would have anticipated."

A light blush rose on Willow's cheeks at the compliment and she tried to brush off her embarrassment with a modest shrug. "I took a linguistics course a few years back and I know two other languages besides English. Sorry, I mean common tongue. I always had an ear for that sort of thing," she replied.

"I'd say," the wizard chortled. "Two other languages, hmm? That makes three in all and one more on the way. My, that is impressive for someone your age. What, may I ask, are the other two?"

"I can hold a conversation in Irish, my Gran's native tongue, and, ah… Klingon." Willow ducked her head to hide her growing blush of embarrassment on instinct. "… If that even counts…" she added in a mumble.

She knew Gandalf wouldn't understand her sudden bashfulness, but she couldn't help it. Knowing how to speak Klingon wasn't exactly popular back home and Willow had had her fair share of teasing over the years due to her intense love of _Star Trek_. Obviously she wouldn't get the same treatment here, but old habits are hard to break.

Willow cleared her throat to get her mind back on track. "Anyway, I used to have this professor that once said he'd never seen a more dedicated, or annoying, student in twenty years of lecturing."

"I think this professor or yours and I would have made good friends," Gandalf chuckled, shooting her a playful wink. "But I think, perhaps, that will be enough for today. I believe you have a small feast to be preparing for." The wizard stood and collected the parchment, quill and inkwell to put away while Willow took another sip of her nearly forgotten tea.

At Gandalf's words, though, she groaned softly, watching as the steam rising from her cup made her glasses fog. She pouted up at him. "Do I have to?" she whined, making her best puppy-dog face over a rim made of finely crafted china. Through the fog she saw Gandalf shake his head. He sighed, frowning.

"I'm afraid you do. Lord Elrond wishes for his people to see you sitting with his family to show them you are welcome as his honoured guest in Imladris. Since rushing you through the city in the arms of one of his sons not but a fortnight passed, the elves have been curious about you and where you come from. You know very well that there is only so much Lord Elrond and I can tell them," he explained tiresomely. Since they'd shared similar conversations to how this one was starting to sound like in the past, Willow understood and shared in his annoyance. Just for different reasons.

"You have rarely been seen since your first breakfast with us. Other than sightings of you at the waterfall or when you are sneaking about the city with the twins or Verya or here with me, you are akin to a ghost! The elves have not had a chance to know you," he continued to lecture. Willow rolled her eyes and set down her tea to slouch in her chair. As if sensing her petulance the wizard then tossed her a stern glower, one ridiculously bushy brow raised high. "To put it simply, my dear—you need to socialize. As Lord Elrond's guest, it is expected of you."

"I socialize," Willow protested with a childish pout. Gandalf's high brow dropped into a dubious frown. "I do! You said it yourself that I hang out with people. I'm spend time with you, don't I? And the twins? Then there's Verya and Melda and Elrond. And don't forget I talked with Glorfindel and even spent an hour with Lindir talking about autotune yesterday!" The redhead's hands lifted to flap around in wild gesticulations. "See? I've got friends. It's considered being social if you hang out regularly with at least four different people."

Slowly, Gandalf's eyes closed and he released a long-suffering sigh, "Willow…" he said warningly.

Despite her vexation towards him, her lips curved into a small impish grin. "Am I being difficult again?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, well, that sounds like a you problem."

Gandalf took a moment to calm himself then opened his eyes after a few deep breaths. His icy blue stare levelled her with a frustrated frown as he went on. "Do not presume to think that one conversation with Lords Glorfindel and Lindir constitutes as friendship and as for the seamstress you have only met her twice, according to Verya. You do not gather with the rest of the elves at meals or come to the Hall of Fire. You prefer to let Verya bring food to you in your quarters—and you and I both know she will not object; she is far too kind for that. Elves are a communal people, Willow. They are full of life. You should take the time to learn more about them and their ways as we have done with you. Befriend them," the wizard implored.

It's not that Willow didn't _want_ to get to know them—she was learning their language, after all, plus the fact that they even _existed_ fascinated her. It's just that… Well, what could she really say to them? At least at this point in time when only a small portion actually spoke English? Most of the ones who did were already her friends—she assumed, anyway. She didn't know how many elves actually spoke English, but she remembered Verya mentioning that there wasn't many. It was hard to strike up conversations with strangers when you had no idea if they'd understand a single word you said. And they stared at her. A lot. Most of the time she couldn't tell if they were silently judging her or just curious. Either way, she always knew what, or rather _who_, they were talking about when she'd catch them turning to whisper something to a companion.

Elves didn't seem the type to be assholes, but Willow still couldn't help feeling like she was constantly being scrutinized and Gandalf's incessant lectures about her preference to be alone didn't help. Especially after learning how people in this city viewed humans as a whole. Were they gossipy? Oh, yeah—the stories she'd heard from Elrohir and Verya alone was proof enough of that. Were they rude and insulting? Well, maybe to dwarves. They at least tolerated her kind. The jury was still out where she was concerned specifically, and while she'd made a few friends and acquaintances, that only accounted for a small percentage of the population.

Willow had never been overly social. She preferred to sit at home and do her own thing without having the pressure of maintaining social niceties. No, she didn't avoid people. She might have been an introvert, but she wasn't a hermit. However, the prospect of going out and actively seeking people to befriend always seemed like such a chore. It had been easier and less stressful just staying at home, but here in Middle Earth that wasn't something she could do anymore. And the thought of putting herself out there in front of a whole city of practically perfect beings that didn't understand half the things she said made her incredibly insecure.

God, it was like going to a new school and worrying about if the other kids would like you or not. She hated that feeling when she was little and she still hated it now. Besides, all anyone seemed to want to talk to her about was what Earth was like which only emphasized her growing homesickness. All she wanted was peace and quiet to mourn the loss of her home and what few friends she'd left there, was that too much to ask? She was depressed, goddammit. Knowing she might never go back made her feel hollow and cold. It wasn't easy to make friends when you felt like an outsider and that half of who you were was left behind in some other distant dimension.

To top it all off she was now forced to live life with no electricity, no internet, no cars and no showers. And don't even get her started on the severe lack of feminine hygiene products. Let's just say that handling a heavy menstrual flow in a medieval world was no walk in the park.

Needless to say she had more important things to worry about than making a few extra friends. She now had to revamp her entire outlook on life and how to go about it. And yet Gandalf's biggest concern was that she wasn't _social_ enough.

Puh-lease.

Willow leaned her head back, rolling it against her armchair's cushion and blew a raspberry towards the roof. "But what's the point, Gand? Right now, at least? Until I learn enough Elvish to carry even the tiniest of conversations then me socializing is basically moot."

"Don't be so immature," the wizard grunted. "You are making up excuses."

Willow tried to brush him off with a snort. "Psht, for what?"

"For your fear."

When Willow's mouth opened then shut again, unable to come up with a good enough rebuttal, Gandalf hummed, smirking triumphantly. "Yes, that's right. Did you think none of us would notice? Elves have centuries of practice deciphering small observations over a short time. As do I, my dear. I am very old; I have seen thousands of expressions on thousands of faces and yours is a face of loneliness. You can very easily make friends, the twins are proof of this, but you still appear to keep yourself at arm's length. I get the sense that you want to open up more and, yet, for some reason I cannot fathom you do not. Although you desire the opposite, you still distance yourself from us."

"I do not," Willow mumbled. Not exactly the best way to refute his claims, but Willow suddenly felt like the child he always called her under that stern gaze of his. Still… What he said was hitting a little too close to the mark for comfort. She just wanted him to shut up about it. What business was it of his, anyway? It was _her_ life. Willow had the right to choose who she did and didn't want to let in.

"Yes. You do. And it is not healthy," the wizard continued to chide her. "Elves draw their strength from one another just as men do, only on a more spiritual level. Being alone is hard on the mind and eventually starts to effect the soul—"

"Ugh, can you stop?! I'm not a freaking elf, okay! I'm human and I'm not even from here!" she finally snapped, irritation and another sudden spike at the back of her head causing her to lash out harder than she intended. She lifted a hand to rub at her aching temple, partially playing it off as a reaction to her anger. "None of this matters, alright? Please, just…" Willow took a deep breath through her nose, trying to calm herself and push the migraine back. She needed to chill out before she was arrested for senior's abuse. It helped that her damned headache was really starting to take centre stage. It was hard to get up and punch someone when your head felt like imploding.

"Just… drop it. Okay? We're not going to talk about this right now. I'll go to dinner dressed up and smiling, I promise. Just please stop picking apart my personality. You're not my shrink and I'm not looking for one." Then without warning she hissed and her other hand shot up to her head, clutching it tightly as she groaned, "_Ugh_! _Ql'yaH…_"

Willow's eyes clenched shut and her whole body tensed as the random spikes converged and melted into an intense, deep-seated ache that she felt all the way to her toes. Her migraines never lasted longer than a few seconds, but they still hurt like a motherfucker. At least the hell was over with sooner and didn't last for days like she'd heard others had to go through. Willow sat there, taking large deep breaths and after a moment or two the pain blessedly began to recede once more.

When it finally retreated back to a tick at the base of her skull, she sat up and met Gandalf's gaze, sighing through her nose. She ignored his concerned frown and, continuing their conversation, she said, "I'm sorry for snapping at you like that. I don't mind talking about me and my home, but I don't want to talk about my… _feelings_ ok? I know I have issues; I don't need them pointed out to me. So, can you please just let it go?"

Gandalf stared at her for a long time, clearly weighing the pros and cons of pushing her farther, before he slowly began to nod, relenting. Willow sighed quietly and allowed a tiny smile of relief to tilt her lips. "Of course, Willow. My apologies as well, I did not mean to overstep my bounds."

"No harm done," she assured him with a wave of her hand. Although she was still a little upset about how intrusive and pushy he could be, Willow couldn't fault him for it. This was literally a different world with different beliefs and values. She couldn't expect him to hold up to her standards of personal boundaries, nor could he expect her to hold up to his. Not yet, anyway. Someday, maybe, but things were still so new and a little frightening for her. If she took longer than they wanted for her to adjust to their way of life, well, then that was just too bad for them. Willow would get comfortable at whatever pace she wanted, thank you very much.

"Run along now, child, and I will see you in the dining hall," Gandalf said after another few seconds of awkward silence. Using his staff, he gestured towards the door.

Placing her half drunk tea back onto the coffee table, Willow nodded and eagerly stood from her chair, avoided eye contact. She was exhausted mentally and physically not only from the migraine, but also from fending off his accusations. Mostly, though, she didn't want him to see how watery her eyes were. The pain may have receded, but it had lasted long enough to cause tears to form. Best not to give him more information he could use to rat her out to Elrond with. The elf lord worried over her enough as it was.

With a lazily delivered salute, Willow scuttled towards the door, trying her best not to appear as if she wanted to sprint out. "Sir, yes, sir. Catchya later, Gand."

She departed the room hearing Gandalf's chuckle at her back and let a real full smile pull her lips up. Maybe this feast thing wouldn't be so bad as long as he was there. Gandalf was a pretty cool old fart when he wasn't getting on her nerves—which was usually when he was drinking. With him, Verya and the twins keeping her entertained maybe she wouldn't feel so awkward. She might even strike up a conversation with Glorfindel or Lindir if they happened to be there just to show Gandalf how wrong he was about her.

After a few weeks spent in Rivendell, Willow was glad to say she knew her way around—mostly. At first it had been like a maze with all its weird twists and turns and staircases. Now, as she passed by familiar statues and murals, she only had to pause once at a juncture before reminding herself of the right direction and moving on. In less than ten minutes she reached her room where Verya already stood waiting for her.

"It is about time you arrived!" the elleth huffed. She immediately grabbed Willow's arm, dragging her towards the bedroom. "It's fortunate you bathed this morning or else we would have no time to prepare."

Willow laughed and quietly allowed the elf to push her along, standing obediently still when Verya left her in front of her floor length mirror. While the elleth went to rummage through her limited wardrobe, Willow turned her head to talk over her shoulder. "Sorry. Gandalf and I got carried away. He taught me the days of the month and week and greetings today. Plus how to say thank you."

"Oh, wonderful. You could practice by introducing yourself to other elves tonight," the petite maid replied distractedly as she finally found the dress she was looking for. Trotting back over without making a sound, she made a gesture and Willow rolled her eyes, lifting her arms. In a flash Verya removed the plain brown dress she'd been wearing and began to situate the new one over her. When the dress was in place the elf started on the laces with nimble but strong fingers.

"Yippie for me," Willow muttered sarcastically, blowing out a puff of air to get rid of a stray lock of hair that was tickling her nose. It didn't quite work so she used her hand to tuck it over her ear instead. Behind her Verya made a sound of disapproval and poked her in the back to get her to hold still.

The pretty little elf was just as sweet and shy as the first day Willow had met her, but she'd come to learn that the maid was the 'no nonsense' type. Although technically a handmaiden to Lady Arwen, Lord Elrond's youngest child, Verya had been working as a maid since she'd left for Lothlórien. When Willow arrived, Elrond had asked Verya to check in on her once in a while to help her with anything she might need. Verya had readily agreed, being bored of simply cleaning and cooking, and practically declared herself Willow's new personal handmaiden and etiquette instructor. In the past four days alone Willow had to endure a series of sharply spoken—in _Elvish_— 'sit straight's and 'look up, stand proud's that would have made an 18th century schoolmarm weep with joy. She'd also somehow managed to get Willow to wear those god awful slippers on a regular basis.

Even if Willow possessed the dark heart she needed to tell Verya to screw off, she wouldn't have dared. The elf clearly loved being a handmaiden and, honestly, Willow was helpless at getting herself into the dresses she was provided. She also liked Verya. She didn't care that Willow was human or from a strange world with a drastically different culture. She treated Willow no differently than she would treat a friend.

The elf was extraordinarily kind too. Verya was the first one to show Willow to the communal bathing house when she'd sheepishly asked if she smelled gross the morning after their run through the gardens. Verya had tsked, frowned and asked if she wanted the truth. When Willow had nodded, Verya had gone on to tell her she smelled worse than the stables after a rain. She'd been worried about Willow's reaction to her candour and had blushed madly and spoke so softly Willow had barely heard her. When the redhead had laughed instead of getting angry, a friendship had been born. Gradually, Verya's shyness was melting away and Willow found that she was beginning to regard the lithe, snarky elleth like a sister.

Although she had her own private tub, Verya had insisted that Willow use the bath house instead. She explained, with such enthusiasm it made Willow cringe, the bathing pools would be a wonderful way to spend time with the other female elves. Willow had smiled and nodded at the time, but had secretly been mortified. She'd never been particularly self conscious about her body, but the thought of bathing naked with other women that looked like supermodels was enough to make her want to run and hide.

She was already getting stared at anytime she left her room; how would they stare when they saw the weirdly shaped birthmark on her left butt cheek? Her tattoos? They already gawked at her piercings, the fake bloody scratch on her hand and brightly coloured hair. She could only imagine the horror Whompa would bring. The dresses she'd begun to wear—much to her discomfort—covered most of her precious ink. How many elleths would she send running for the hills when they saw the true extent of her artwork?

Thankfully the pools had been empty at the time Verya had taken her and Willow had proceeded to soak leisurely for almost an hour while Verya waited nearby, unconcerned by her tattoos. She had stared curiously at first, but then seemed to shrug it off. They chatted aimlessly as she stood next to Willow's pool and by the end of the hour the elf nearly had to drag the ginger out by her hair. Verya had barely gotten her dressed properly before she was guiding Willow through the halls again with instructions to meet with the seamstress, Melda.

To anyone else the dresses that ended up being made for her probably seemed pretty plain, including the one Verya was currently securing around her. It wasn't extravagant like pretty women wore in the movies with jewels and fancy gold stitching. It was just a plain navy blue with a fitted bodice and modestly swooped neckline. Around her waist was a belt of black leather, shaped in a V to accentuate her waist. The sleeves were long and tight to her wrists, but stretchy with vertical slits cut along the top to expose her flesh every few inches—expertly placed to hide most of her tattoos.

It was light and comfortable, despite the corset, and smooth like silk. Willow was beginning to rethink her bias on dresses as she ran her hands over her waist and hips. It was like wearing naughty lingerie, but still being fully clothed. Weird, yet oddly delightful.

_Alright, so maybe dresses **aren't** so horrible after all..._

Soon enough, Willow felt Verya's hands leave her back."_Thiodh vê…_" she whispered softly from behind her and Willow twisted her head to the side to give the elleth a curious look.

"What's that mean?"

"I means you look beautiful," her friend replied, grinning warmly. "Even if you would rather go to supper in trousers and a tunic, I think you look lovely."

"Thank you. Although I do want some shirts and pants eventually, I agree. I actually think I look pretty good in this," Willow chuckled. "It's hard to believe, but I look like da _bomb_, yo!"

"Da... what?"

Willow waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing. It's just a saying from my world. When something looks good or something good happens, we say it's 'da bomb'."

"That is… interesting," Verya replied, her face scrunching up in an adorably confused frown before smoothing it with a shake of her head. She'd learned quickly to not to question the strange things Willow said too much. "These expressions from your homeland are very strange."

The redhead grinned as Verya guided her over to the vanity and sat her down. She then started on playing with Willow's wild mane of hair, twisting it this way and that. "You should hear what we say when we stub our toes," she snickered.

"Hm, I think I'd rather not. I hear what you say when you are frustrated while practicing your Elvish consonants and it does not sound like it would be pleasant. Most of your cursing is not even in Westron," the elleth giggled, "Now, sit still."

Willow obeyed and sat quietly while Verya began experimenting with different styles. In the end she settled on a small braid made from a lock at each of her temples, leaving her bangs to hang over her right eye. They met in the back in another thin braid, a traditional style that Willow had seen many elves wear. It matched her dress in its simplicity and she smiled at Verya in thanks before the duo departed for the dining hall. It would be Willow's first time eating publicly with the elves of Rivendell since that first breakfast and as they strode towards the dining hall she felt the butterflies begin to take flight in her abdomen.

Verya walked alongside her, chatting away while Willow just smiled, hardly listening. She was too distracted by her nerves. As they approached their destination, she spotted several other elves dressed a little fancier than usual enter the hall as well and frowned, the butterflies turning into a hornet's nest. The closer they got to the large double doors, orchestral music became louder, mingled with the sounds of elves talking and laughing. The clinking of drink cups made her heart skip a beat. This didn't seem like the simple dinner she was led to believe it was.

She stopped, eyeing Verya suspiciously as the elf too came to a halt.

"What's going on?" Willow asked, tone wary.

A small blush graced Very's cheeks and the brunette gave her a guilty smile. "Lord Elrond begged me not to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"That the dinner is in your honour…"

"Verya!" Willow whined. She immediately spun on her heal to stomp back to her room. She only got about five steps before the elleth stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Please, Willow. He wants to officially welcome you to the city," she implored gently.

"I've been here for almost half a month," Willow stated succinctly, slowly pulling her arm from the elleth's grasp, "and no one's called me names, that I know of, and I haven't been tossed in a dungeon. I'd say that qualifies as welcome. This was supposed to be, like, a gathering, not a fancy-ass feast!"

"Are you really this shy?" she questioned, chuckling.

"Yes, I'm utterly terrified of people. Can I go now?"

Willow turned away to run off again without waiting for an answer, but the elleth was quick to stop her once more. "No," Verya giggled. She moved around Willow to grasp her shoulders, turning and pushing her back towards the dinging hall. The redhead let out an immature whimper. "I know for a fact you are not shy, my friend, so don't even try to use that as an excuse. I know your last public meal was uncomfortable, but this will be better. I promise."

Willow doubted that. "I just don't like being the centre of attention," she sighed, begrudgingly allowing the elf to push her. But she wasn't kind about it and purposely letting her feet drag. "There's nothing wrong with being a wallflower, y'know."

"I know not what that means, but you are neither a flower or a wall. You avidly avoid people and I'm not entirely convinced it is because you don't enjoy attention," Verya stated with a little sniff. Willow barely withheld from rolling her eyes. Jesus, did all of her friends watch her this closely? Or was she just an open book? "And avoiding others does get awfully lonesome," Verya continued chidingly, giving Willow the stink-eye when the woman huffed.

"Been talking to Gandalf, have you?" she grumbled.

"We are only concerned. You need not take such offence," the maid sighed. Verya then squeezed her shoulders encouragingly as they crossed the threshold. "Come. At least _try_ to enjoy yourself."

The room Willow had only seen once before was stuffed to the max tonight. There were long tables just like before, only this time several more had been added, and at the largest one, sitting on the raised section of the floor, was Elrond's table. His sons, advisors and Gandalf sat with him and a few other nobles, silver and bronze goblets filled with some kind of alcohol already in hand. As Willow and Verya approached, the twins smiled in greeting and gestured to a pair of chairs left open opposite them. They wore identical silver and brown outfits while their father wore his usual maroon robes and Gandalf his grey. Taking a seat next to the wizard, Willow smiled when he complimented her gown.

"Thanks. Melda had it altered for me," she responded. 'Altered' was an understatement. The poor seamstress had to widen the waist _and_ bust in order to make it fit her. But at least the skirt and sleeves had good length. Willow's height seemed to be the only thing she shared with the elves.

Gandalf reached towards the centre of the table and plucked up a glistening silver pitcher. He filled a goblet to the brim with what appeared to be red wine, setting it in front of her plate.

"She has an excellent eye," he praised loudly and and somewhat sloppily. Willow had to wonder just how much the old coot had consumed already. It wasn't like she was late; there wasn't even any food on the table yet. "That shade of blue compliments you quite nicely."

"Thank you," she said again, chuckling quietly when across from her she spotted Elrohir trying to sneak a spoon down Elladan's shirt. His brother noticed and promptly smacked Elrohir's hand away. The spoon clattered to the floor and they proceeded to bicker in Elvish, hands gesticulating wildly. Willow shook her head at their antics and turned her attention back to Gandalf. "Maybe you can teach me to thank her properly at our next lesson. Oh, and how to ask her to make shirts and pants for me."

"You require tunics? Is that normal garb for women of your world?" Elrond asked, inserting himself into the conversation smoothly. "I noticed when you arrived you seemed to be wearing similar clothing."

"Ya'huh," Willow nodded, taking a sip of her wine. _Oooh fruity_. "There was a time where women only wore dresses and men wore the pants, but that was a long time ago. Eventually, women started wearing pants and shirts more often and they became popular for both sexes. Although dresses are still considered to be mainly feminine, nowadays some men are known to wear them too."

The elves nearest to them and even Gandalf seemed shocked by this. A chorus of gasps came from anyone who spoke the common tongue and happened to overhear. "Men wearing dresses?" Elrohir exclaimed, his argument with Elladan now completely forgotten. Willow had to laugh at the expressions on their faces. Really, they shouldn't have been so surprised. Their robes were basically dresses in themselves.

"It's rare, but it does happen," she said, shrugging a shoulder and grinning lopsidedly. She would have liked to defend the men of her world more, but she figured she'd dropped enough of a bombshell on these people already. Explaining why men would willingly dress like women would only open a can of worms she wasn't in the mood to deal with at the moment.

"Your world seems most strange…" On Willow's left, Verya's eyebrows narrowed and shook her head in bewilderment. Willow just gave her another crooked grin.

"Oh, you have _no_ idea," she snorted.

* * *

**Translations**:

**_Hannon le_****: **Elvish, meaning 'thank you'.

**_Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn:_** Elvish, meaning 'the stars shine upon the hour of our meeting'.

**_Mae g'ovannen:_** Elvish, meaning 'well met'.

**_Thiodh vê:_** Elvish, meaning 'you look good/beautiful'.

**_Ql'yaH: _**Kingon, meaning 'fuck'.

**Hello, my pretties! Got another one for ya! I just want to say thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to everyone who has favourited, followed and reviewed this story. It really means a lot to me that you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. There will be more to come soon so stay frosty, my friends! ****Peace!**


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